A Change in the Weather AU (inspired by Cacophonylights's ACITW)
by fbeauchamphartz
Summary: This is an AU ending to Cacophonylights's story 'A Change in the Weather'. I was approached by some fans to write an ending, and I was given permission to write my own twist on the ending, starting from where the original left off. A copy of her permission can be found on her LiveJournal account. (ACITW does not belong to me. Only what I write) Kurt H. and Sebastian S.
1. ACITW AU CH23A

**A/N: **_This is an AU ending to Cacophonylights's story 'A Change in the Weather'. I was approached by some fans to write an ending, and after a lot of hoop jumping (which included getting in contact with the author herself) I was given permission to right my own twist on the ending, starting from where the original left off. A copy of her permission can be found tag/blanket%20permission._

_I acknowledge that the story A Change in the Weather DOES NOT belong to me, not the story or the original characters or their story line. I am writing this for the fans and in honor of the author. The only thing I take ownership of is what I write._

_Since Cacophony has mentioned that she will be continuing her story at a time later to be determined, what you will read from me will be ENTIRELY my AU. I do know how her ch 23 was supposed to go and have (as some of you do) 100 words from that chapter. I thought it would be silly for me to follow her vein since she's going to write it herself anyway. The one thing I am adopting from her notes is her story arc. She had two story arcs planned. The first one ended in ch 21. That story arc was 'miscommunication'. The second story arc in an equal number of chapters was to be 'communication'. And then an epilogue._

_So what you can expect from me is around 21 chapters based on the arc theme 'communication'. What does that mean? That means, basically, this is the point where questions will be answered and secrets/intentions/motives will be revealed. We will get a confrontation with Blaine at some point. I am giving Kurt and Sebastian a week at the beach house to work through their relationship before any real s**t hits any proverbial fans._

_As for the question of an ending, I'm not giving anything away except that Cacophony's intention was that this was ultimately a Kurtbastian story. That's mine as well. So even if things go wonky, that's where it's headed. How it gets there is another story._

The muted sound of the waves pounding on the surf invades Kurt's dreams. It starts out as a soft symphony that punctuates the quiet moments between Sebastian's kisses, and sings to him long after his eyelids flutter shut and he drifts away to sleep. But the constant ebb and flow persists, waves chasing one another in a constant dance, culminating in a crash against the shore that is almost too loud to be soothing. But exhaustion wins out, and he finds himself swiftly transported to that place where he can review the events of the day from a safe distance, with a tiny dash of the surreal and the bizarre thrown in.

All through the night, Kurt has powerful dreams, so vivid and full of sensation that even when his eyelids open and part the veil between awake and asleep he has a hard time deciphering real life from fantasy. Once or twice in his dreams, time turns back and instead of Sebastian lying beside him in bed, Blaine is there, sleeping deeply, hazel eyes shut behind tan eyelids, a mop of dark curls creeping down over his brow. It's not that he has any desire at the moment to travel back in order to be with Blaine, but that past seemed simpler at the time, his future seemed so assured.

In a single, horrifying dream, he wakes up alone – completely and utterly alone. In this dream, he has no future.

As night inches towards daybreak, Kurt's eyelids start to drift open at almost half-hourly intervals. They sweep around the room, over the unfamiliar furniture, focusing on the large glass windows with their view of the turbulent ocean, then the sky as it passes through gradients from dark to light by miniscule increments, finally settling on Sebastian, just to reassure himself that yesterday was real, and that this incredible boy was a part of it.

Kurt smiles as he realizes Sebastian is more than just a part; he's more like the linchpin. He gave Kurt this opportunity, and not just to spend some time away from his problems in this gorgeous house on the beach, but a chance to try something exciting and new; a chance to lose his heart all over again – this time to Sebastian.

Something about the sound of the waves crashing outside the bedroom window calls to Kurt. He assesses his current situation as the fog in his head lifts and the last traces of dreams are blinked away. He had fallen asleep partially tangled around Sebastian's body. At some point they had pulled apart, but their hands had found each other and held on tight, fingers laced together beneath the thick, down blanket. Kurt catches a glimpse of Sebastian's sleeping face and smiles. The handsome countenance of the sleeping cynic looks so young, so unexpectedly innocent, with just the tiniest hint of his true nature hiding in the curl of his lip, even in sleep. Kurt would happily spend all morning in bed with Sebastian, but the pushing and pulling of the water, its unceasing movement, and the muffled roar of the rushing tide all prompt him to move.

Kurt carefully stretches his sore limbs, shivering when his exposed arms breach the warmth of the blanket and are immediately assaulted by the chill air. With an internal groan at his own damned stubbornness, he slides from the blankets, inch by inch, trying with concerted efforts not to budge Sebastian as he sleeps. Kurt squeaks when his feet come in contact with the ice-cold floor. He claps a hand over his mouth, watching Sebastian's face for any sign that he might wake up. Sebastian takes a deep breath, muttering something so unintelligible that Kurt can't discern a single syllable. Then his face relaxes, and Sebastian is sleeping soundly again.

Kurt patters on soundless footsteps to the windows and gazes down at the water. An early morning fog has settled, a light patch of gray obscuring the horizon, filtering the light from a bright orange sun promising a hot summer day. He considers for a moment the swing sitting on the private patio, swaying back and forth in the breeze coming off the water. It conjures daydreams sitting with a steaming hot cup of coffee warming his chilly hands, a brand new issue of Vogue on his lap as he takes a perfect first sip and sighs, a tiny cloud escaping his lips as his hot breath meets the cold in the air around him. It sounds so appealing that he almost gives in, but no.

It was the sound of the waves that called him from his sleep.

He quickly changes his pajama pants for a pair of skinny jeans, smiling to himself at the memory of the last time he stripped down to his underwear in front of Sebastian. Granted Sebastian was sleeping now, so maybe it doesn't exactly count. Kurt might have to find a way of bringing it up later, tease Sebastian about what he missed, just to see his reaction. Kurt eschews his trusty pair of Doc Martens in favor of the feeling of the cold, loose sand slipping over his feet. Besides, the sand would provide a touch of natural exfoliation for his somewhat neglected feet, which couldn't hurt. The last thing he grabs is the hoodie Sebastian leant him, which Kurt had conveniently forgotten to return, relegating it on his mental 'to do' list somewhere between graduating from NYADA and becoming a Broadway sensation. This time, with only himself to witness his moment of weakness, he brings the fabric of the sleeve up to his nose and inhales deeply, closing his eyes to better appreciate all the scents that clearly belong to Sebastian – a faded trace of lilac-scented laundry detergent, a spicy hint of Sebastian's cologne, and a subtle tone of chlorine. Kurt had refused to wash the hoodie. He didn't want to erase those smells, so strongly linked to memories; memories of Sebastian's dark eyes as he watched Kurt lick tequila off his body, of talking dirty in Sebastian's ear and hearing his sinfully delicious moan, of Sebastian admitting he wanted to take care of Kurt, and of the two of them spooning in bed as they drifted to sleep.

Kurt takes one last look at Sebastian, curled on his side with a single arm outstretched, hand covering the spot where Kurt once lay. Kurt resists the urge to brush the hair from his eyes and peck a small kiss to the smooth, tan skin of his forehead. Another urge bubbles up within him, the urge to wake Sebastian up and ask him to accompany him down to the beach. But Kurt needs this time; he needs to get a little perspective.

The first step out of the house and the brisk ocean air slaps Kurt in the face, waking him up immediately. He rethinks his decision with only a second of hesitation before he trudges ahead, retracing his steps from the previous evening until he reaches the sandy path and follows it up the gentle rise that leads to the water. And suddenly, there it is. Kurt hadn't expected it to take his breath away quite so much as the first time, but it does. The wind whips around him, and gets notably stronger the closer he gets, until he's leaning into the wind to keep from being pushed back. The sand beneath his feet gets more hard-packed and colder. Small droplets of salty spray cling to his clothes as well as the exposed skin of his face and hands. He decides to stop far enough from the water to avoid being surprised by a sudden powerful wave or unexpected rise in tide. He plants his feet into the ground, burying his toes beneath the wet sand, and stares in silent wonder at the spectacle before him.

Kurt watches the water move, gaping ridiculously at its immense power, swaying slightly with the waves as the white cap rushes for him, and then backs away. Losing himself in the churning waves is so cliché. He refuses to make it a metaphor, refuses to make it into anything more than what it is. But watching the ocean seems to have a strange, calming effect on him, as if the push and pull are actually within him, helping his heart pound, keeping his breaths even. His thoughts become clear, and he examines his life from this new starting point.

He pictures a blank slate set against the lightening sky and tries to fit the pieces of his life into place, moving them around until they make sense. Before the gala and Cooper's ill-timed confession, Kurt had been marking time by what was left of the summer and Blaine's homecoming, which Kurt originally dreamt would be full of tearful kisses, confessions of undying love, and long stretches of time alone to get 'reacquainted' with one another. Now all that planning and pining is moot. His new timeline takes him to the end of summer, and when he gets there, a whole new crop of questions and problems will confront him. NYADA is the big one, of course. There's no way he can take $10,000 from Sebastian…not now. It wouldn't matter if it is payment for being a fake boyfriend, or a loan (if Sebastian or his family offered). Kurt would definitely and politely decline, even if his heart did shatter into a million pieces and blow away like dust.

And what about Sebastian? Kurt suddenly feels like a heel realizing that through all this - even as their relationship crossed the bridge from casual archenemies, to sort of frenemies, to friends, to _this_ more that they have as yet to assign a label to, Kurt never thought to ask. He had so many opportunities, but the question simply didn't occur to him. An intelligent young man like Sebastian - a success academically, athletic, with an affluent family - surely has plans, most likely at some expensive, prestigious university. Harvard, Stanford…what if he decides to attend college abroad? Kurt can picture Sebastian walking the grounds of some picturesque campus nestled somewhere between the romantic mecca of Paris and the rolling French hillsides, taking study dates in quaint little cafes while speaking fluent French with an almost intimidatingly handsome and statuesque man with a name like Pierre or Francois…

Kurt gasps, sucking in a sharp, deep breath of crisp morning air, unaware until just that moment that he has been holding his breath while self-doubt crept into his brain and spun the most painful story it could weave, stringing threads from his own fears of failure, connecting them to his ever-lingering self-doubt, and wrapping around his occasional questioning of his own appeal.

Kurt Hummel knows he's a star. He just wants the chance to convince others likewise.

He sighs, not looking forward to the prospects of a year left alone in Lima – no NYADA; his friends gone, following their respective paths; and no Sebastian.

What started out as Kurt's morning of calm reflection has quickly turned into Kurt Hummel's pathetic pity party of one, and if there's one thing he loathes, that's self-pity. He wants to forget about his life and his future for a little while. He longs to climb back up to the house, burrow beneath the covers with Sebastian, crawl into the safety of his arms, and snuggle against him. He finally feels like he belongs there. But with a slight brush of his fingertips beneath his eyes to scrape away some bothersome grains of sand, Kurt realizes to his own disgust that he's been crying. He doesn't relish going back to the house and having to explain why he woke up early to explore the beach just to return in tears. Sebastian would have a field day, and normally Kurt wouldn't mind. In fact, on any other day, moping over any other problem, Kurt would be grateful for the distraction of a good-natured bitch fight.

But not today. Not with this particular problem.

Kurt knows he can't dodge this forever. Sebastian can drive their happy asses up and down the eastern seaboard and back in his sexy red Mustang, but sooner or later, it will all catch up with him. Kurt needs to hash it out, needs to trust Sebastian with the complete, unabridged and unedited story of Blaine and NYADA and the future.

Kurt comes to a decision – probably an extremely selfish decision, but he's pleased with it. It makes him feel better, hopeful; in a pithy greeting card message sort of way, he finally believes that everything will be all right in the end.

He grants himself a week's reprieve – one week to focus on little more than making a go at a relationship with Sebastian. Kurt Hummel is on vacation – the first honest to God vacation he's had all summer. Everything up till now has been such a chore – crying and not sleeping and acting the part of the dutiful boyfriend – it all felt like a job.

He changes his focus and now breathing seems easier, his shoulders seem lighter. The sun is higher in the sky, burning off the fog and sweeping the grey away. Kurt takes another deep breath, one that stings less, letting it fill all the voids and collapsed crevices of his lungs until his entire body feels cleansed. He wipes his eyes one last time, declaring the discarded tears of woe to be the last he will shed this week, and slips his hands back into the pockets of the hoodie, surprised to find another pair of hands filling the space, startlingly warm against Kurt's frigid skin.

Kurt's smile is automatic, ingrained in his blood, like shivering in response to the cold, or crying during the bittersweet beauty that is _The Notebook_. Kurt knows these hands – they held onto his while dancing, and all night long in the dark while they slept. The simple act of holding hands will always be at the top of an ever-growing list of Kurt's most-loved intimate acts, and the hands holding his in the pocket of the hoodie are quickly becoming his favorite.

"I thought maybe you changed your mind and took off," a rough, gravelly voice confesses, and spaghetti God up above if Sebastian's voice doesn't sound completely debauched first thing in the morning. Kurt can hear Sebastian's patented smirk coloring his voice, but Kurt can detect another tone, too. A small layer of anxiousness, like maybe Sebastian truly thought Kurt had run off and left him.

"Really?" Kurt turns his palms up in Sebastian's hands, and Sebastian laces their fingers together.

"A-ha," Sebastian responds, all trace of anxiety exorcised from his voice as he pulls Kurt closer to him, giving Kurt his warmth. "But you left your phone by the bed, and all your clothes, and since those are two things I know you can't live without, I figured you were either out here, or you'd been kidnapped."

"You don't seem like you were too worried," Kurt huffs, lifting his chin defiantly, unintentionally lengthening the column of his neck.

Sebastian takes that as an invitation to press a soft kiss to the delicate skin beneath Kurt's jaw, right against the spot where his pulse thrums visibly through pale skin. The kiss is tentative at first as Sebastian waits for Kurt to pull away, but Kurt doesn't. In fact, he leans into the kiss, a silent request for more please, and as Sebastian continues to talk, he pecks a line down to Kurt's shoulder. These kisses (Kurt counts fourteen of them total) aren't heated, not too bold. Just tiny brushes of skin against skin, innocent and undemanding, but they still manage to make Kurt tremble, something he can pass off as a reaction to the cold even though Kurt's sure that Sebastian knows better.

"I've seen the muscles on you, Kurt. I'm pretty sure you can handle yourself," Sebastian mutters against Kurt's neck between kisses, and he does feel the shift in Kurt's skin as he trembles after each feather-light touch, watches with darkening green eyes as goosebumps bloom, but he doesn't say anything, opting to store the information for later. "Besides, I figured one wrong move, they ruin your perfect hair, and they'd be done."

Kurt giggles, trying hard not to move too much, not wanting to discourage Sebastian in any way from continuing the trail he's created. Sebastian moves back up Kurt's neck, and Kurt can't help the way he shifts to accommodate, his body moving of its own accord to chase Sebastian's lips, nor can he help the tiny gasps and whimpers a touch to certain sensitive spots elicit, and Sebastian back tracks to cover those spots again. Sebastian kisses slowly towards Kurt's mouth, lips parted, waiting, beckoning, but at the last second Kurt flinches, throwing a hand up over his lips to stop him. Sebastian leans back, startled by the gesture, and stares accusingly into Kurt's wide blue eyes.

"What…you don't want me to kiss you?"

Kurt hears the edge of self-doubt in Sebastian's question, just a thin thread of vulnerability that tugs at Kurt's chest, twining through his heart and squeezing.

"No!" Kurt says quickly, his voice muffled by the press of his hand against his lips. Sebastian lets go of Kurt's hands and steps back, visibly hurt. Kurt turns his back on the ocean, catching up Sebastian's retreating arms as he attempts to wrap them back around his waist. "I mean, yes, Sebastian. Yes, of course, I want you to kiss me, it's just that…"

"Just what, Kurt?" Sebastian demands a little more than asks, his jaw set tight, his back rigid and unyielding, eyes fixed a bit above Kurt's head at the pounding surf. Kurt sighs and finally takes a good long look at the young man in front of him, standing barefoot in the sand, still dressed in his pajama pants but with a navy blue Dalton hoodie pulled over his torso. The hood is down, and his hair hasn't quite been brushed – probably just carded through with tired fingers – but it has such an attractive devil-may-care quality to it. He looks so dressed down, so comfortable, and it warms Kurt's heart that he gets to see Sebastian like this, even if at this particular moment he is scowling hard enough to boil the sea. Kurt bites back the urge to call Sebastian a drama queen, realizing he might not be up for the taunt.

"I…I didn't brush my teeth yet this morning," Kurt stammers, hoping to sound as apologetic as he feels. His admission breaks through the steel of Sebastian's grimace, and he cracks a slight smile, turning his eyes down to meet Kurt's, crowding back into his personal space and tightening the circle of his arms.

"That's okay," Sebastian murmurs, inching closer to Kurt's lips, eyes trained on the spot where Kurt is worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. "I brushed before I came down here…"

"Wait," Kurt interrupts, looking at Sebastian, his voice suddenly cross, "you thought I might have run away or been kidnapped, and you stopped to brush your teeth before you came looking for me?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes fondly, nipping the tip of Kurt's nose.

"I saw you from the window, doofus," Sebastian chuckles, "so I was already sure you weren't in any danger. Anyway...I brushed my teeth, and rinsed with that disgusting antiseptic shit that burns the inside of your mouth and scalds every nerve ending on your tongue. Ergo, through the transitive property of oral hygiene, I think I've got us covered."

Sebastian smirks triumphantly as he moves in, confident that he has squashed all of Kurt's objections. Kurt holds his breath, waiting until Sebastian's mouth hovers close enough to feel the cool of his breath tingle his skin.

"But, I'm not sure that's how transitive properties work," Kurt mutters quietly, the words sliding in tiny puffs across Sebastian's lips.

"Hummel," Sebastian says firmly, making his point exceptionally clear, "just shut the fuck up and kiss me."

Sebastian doesn't let Kurt object this time, and Kurt doesn't dare try, because this kiss is perfection. There's no other way to describe it. Sebastian's lips are still warm, not suffering the same exposure that Kurt's have, and they slot against Kurt's flawlessly. There's no awkward readjusting, no comical mishaps where noses bump together. They fit seamlessly, like they were made to kiss each other, and moments like this were already written for them, waiting to be played out on beaches, in parks, beneath trees and in the rain. They just had to find them together.

And then Sebastian's hands move - one slipping into the back pocket of Kurt's jeans, just barely able to sneak into the tight fabric; the other traveling up Kurt's back and cupping the nape of his neck. With strong, sure fingers, Sebastian works at the muscles there, massaging in circles and why, oh why hasn't Sebastian done this before?

Because, Kurt realizes, this experience is new for Sebastian. He's experimenting, discovering what it's like to read someone's body in a different way than he's used to. Kurt's hands move, too, not content to sit lamely on Sebastian's hips. He slips them beneath Sebastian's hoodie, toying at the hem of his t-shirt. Sebastian doesn't break their kiss, but nods subtly against Kurt's forehead. The pads of Kurt's fingers brush bare skin, and he feels Sebastian's breath hitch in his throat. In his mind, Kurt can isolate the exact moment when he stole all the air from Sebastian's lungs with a single touch of his fingertips. This new-found power makes Kurt heady, his cheeks flushing when he slides his hands up the muscular lines of Sebastian's back and Sebastian moans into Kurt's mouth.

Kurt is more than a little flustered, unsure of what to do or how far to go, only vaguely aware that Sebastian has a hand shoved in the back pocket of his jeans, outside in broad daylight, but Kurt can't find it in himself to care.

"So," Sebastian whispers against Kurt's lips, unwilling to pull away much further, "is this something we do now?"

"What's that?" Kurt asks, happy to remain within kissing distance of Sebastian's talented mouth.

"Make out in public," Sebastian mutters, as if the answer was painfully obvious.

"I would hardly say we're making out in public," Kurt argues. "Nobody's even here." Kurt's eyes shift left to right, darting down the length of sand that he can see without turning away from Sebastian's face. "Uh…why isn't anyone else here?"

"Well, babe, it's barely past six in the morning, for one. And another thing is this is a private beach."

"Pr-private beach?" Kurt stammers. He can barely wrap his mind around the excessive wealth he's already seen from the Smythes, but this…he never even knew someone could _own_ a beach, except for those islands in the Pacific that always seem to be for sale, and even then, not unless you happen to be Tom Hanks. Kurt is not so awestruck that he can't appreciate the appeal of a private beach, and suddenly another number from his bucket list springs to mind - #71 'Sex on a beach'.

"Yeah," Sebastian laughs gently, that genuine laugh that Kurt loves so much. "Well, mostly private, for a couple of miles at least until the sandbar catches up to the Crystal Coast. Atlantic Beach is separated from us by a short chain link fence and a sign. People jump it from time to time."

Sebastian lifts his head to the sound of irregular splashing in the surf, and raises an eyebrow as his gaze drifts off to a point somewhere behind Kurt's head.

"Like, apparently, those Amish chicks over there." Sebastian gestures with his chin to a spot Kurt can't quite see when he turns his head. His small squeak of confusion prompts Sebastian to turn Kurt's body slightly. Kurt sees two girls, no more than sixteen years old, waving like giddy fools in their direction, and dressed in the most tragically drab grey linen dresses Kurt has ever seen. They are dancing barefoot in the wet sand, letting the waves chase them up the beach, and then rushing to follow them back. Kurt cringes when he notices how their hemlines are quickly soaking up the salt water, knowing the fabric will be ruined when it dries, though in the end that may be a blessing in disguise. But despite the flaw in their fashion choices (and yes, Kurt realizes that basically they have no say in that department), they look so blissfully happy, so free, charming Kurt with their infectious laughter.

"Rumspringa," Sebastian says, pressing Kurt's back against his chest as he folds Kurt in his arms.

"Gesundheit," Kurt quips back.

"No. They're here for rumspringa." Sebastian places a kiss lightly in Kurt's hair, and Kurt leans back to mold himself against Sebastian's body. "If they piss us off, we can ask them to go back over the fence, but they probably won't stay for long anyway."

"It's okay," Kurt says. "What's that?"

"What's what? A fence?"

"No." Kurt swings around and slaps Sebastian's arm, grinning when he hears Sebastian mutter a petulant, "Ow!"

"Rumspringa," Kurt repeats. "What is that?"

"It's some Amish coming-of-age thing," Sebastian explains. He tries to release Kurt to nurse his sore arm, but Kurt doesn't let him, gripping Sebastian's wrists tight and locking them back together around his waist. Kurt can feel Sebastian's chuckle resonate throughout his whole body. "These Amish kids get to leave their farms and experience life in the city. You know, see firsthand the dangers of our big, bad, corruptive lifestyles, and then go running back to plowing fields and building barns."

"How do you know all that?" Kurt asks, wondering if any Amish boys learned anything about 'corruptive lifestyles' from Sebastian while he was vacationing over the summer.

"Julian met a couple of them a while back. He told me that there're two things all the Amish kids do when they come to the coast."

"And that is?" Kurt feels like he's pulling teeth, getting the answers from Sebastian little by little.

"Well, the first is to see the ocean, obviously." Kurt can hear Sebastian's eyes rolling.

"And the second?"

"Parties…sex…drugs and alcohol."

Kurt nods.

"That's four things," he says, counting them out obnoxiously on his fingers so Sebastian can see.

"Yeah, but they all kind of go together." Sebastian nibbles at the shell of Kurt's ear, delighted when Kurt jumps a bit in his arms.

Kurt watches the girls as they wave again, this time in good-bye, and make their way to the fence that leads to the public side of the beach. Kurt doesn't care that these wide-eyed and innocent young girls will soon be on the prowl for drugs and sex. They're breaking loose, bucking tradition, freeing themselves from the bonds of an oppressive, religion-controlled society, and hopefully will find the courage to explore new fashion trends. Kurt feels an unexpected sense of camaraderie with them. Kurt watches them walk away, the final flutter of their ankle-length skirts whipping out behind them as they round the bend and disappear from view.

A comfortable silence stretches between them, and Kurt sinks into it, happy to know that they can still have these moments, still just be themselves, when they can talk and flirt and tease and sometimes just enjoy the silence.

But Kurt is also ready to start breaking loose himself.

"So, what do you want to do today?" Kurt asks, bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet at the thought of getting his vacation started.

"Well, we need to pick up some food because I took a look around and all we seem to have that's edible is a half-eaten bag of oyster crackers and a can of spray cheese."

"Sounds lovely," Kurt scoffs playfully.

"Other than that, I was hoping you might let me play cruise director." Sebastian sways slowly to the rhythm of the waves, the crashing water more subdued as the tide makes its way out further and further from the shore. Kurt shuts his eyes and moves with him, following where Sebastian leads, even if it is in just a small arc in the sand. "There are a couple of things we absolutely cannot do until everyone else gets here, but if you don't mind humoring me, I had a sudden stroke of inspiration while you were out here playing in the sand…"

"Oh please tell me that's not code for 'you had an idea while you were masturbating'?" Kurt groans.

Sebastian laughs, his shoulders shaking, his entire body vibrating, and Kurt feels a swell of pride that he can bring that out in him.

"As sexy as that sounds…no." Sebastian spins Kurt back around and traps him in his embrace. "Just trust me. Okay?"

Sebastian's green eyes soften, his face almost pleading, asking Kurt without words to let him do this his way, to give him the chance to try and get it right.

Kurt makes a show of sighing dramatically, rolling his neck on his shoulders.

"Oh, alright," Kurt moans. "If it means that much to you…especially since we all know I have a thorough and extensive knowledge of all the happening things to do out here."

Though, to be completely honest, Kurt did have something in mind, and even with his face still mostly numb from the cold, he can feel his cheeks glowing redder than a stop light. Sebastian catches the blush, notices immediately when it spreads up Kurt's neck to the roots of his walnut-colored coif. He tilts his head inquisitively, hoping Kurt will elaborate, but Kurt's lips remain unwaveringly sealed.

Sebastian starts to walk backward, leading Kurt along on a trail back to the house.

"So, let's get ready and hit the road. We have about an hour's drive inland, and it might be a good idea to start before it gets too hot."

Kurt nods, intrigue cooling the flush on Kurt's cheeks as he tries to guess what Sebastian might have planned. They make their way back up the path in silence while Kurt's mind whirls with possibilities. Right before they reach the bedroom, Sebastian turns around and meets Kurt nose to nose.

"Oh, and Kurt…" Sebastian whispers, his voice almost a purr, "dress to get dirty."

Kurt wants to object to the idea of getting dirty, but the words turn to nonsense, lodging in his throat and stopping just south of his vocal chords at the subtle smolder in Sebastian's stare.

Suddenly, getting dirty didn't sound like such an undesirable thing.


	2. ACITW AU CH23B

**A/N:** _I wanted to take a moment and explain my line of thinking here, since some people might read this and be curious. I see this week at the beach house as Sebastian's attempt to woo Kurt, which is something he's more than likely not familiar with. He wouldn't want to treat Kurt the way he treats his hook-ups. He'll want to make every day into something special, and a few times, he might fail spectacularly. It's going to be cute and awkward, and culminate to a bigger event as the week comes to a close and the family joins them. So please bear that in mind, and also know that any questions you have will most likely be answered as more chapters are posted. This is the second portion of chapter 23._

Sebastian grabs his duffel and heads for the bathroom, shooting Kurt another suggestive wink and slow, alluring smile. Outwardly, Kurt rolls his eyes with an unimpressed demeanor, but in his chest, his heart thrums against his ribcage and the air around him, cool with the sea breeze spiraling through the room, suddenly feels stifling and oppressive. Kurt swallows hard to relieve the tightening in his throat, and shakes his head, trying to get himself back on track. He spots his luggage stacked in the corner of the room, and his focus returns to Sebastian's mysterious plans for the day.

_Getting dirty._

Kurt pulls open the first bag and rifles through it, bypassing his own wardrobe in favor of the pile of Puck and Finn's borrowed clothes buried underneath. As enticing as Sebastian's invitation to get dirty is, it's not enough to make Kurt sacrifice one of his own casual yet still designer outfits to the cause. Especially not, if say, an article of clothing should get torn off him, Kurt muses, the thought immediately making his cheeks go from pale to pink. He smiles, pinching his lower lip between his teeth while he allows himself a moment to entertain the thoughts playing in his head like the trailer of a movie; not letting himself indulge in _all_ the details, just enough of the really juicy parts to tease. Lately, just being around Sebastian brings these thoughts barreling to the forefront of his imagination, which Kurt can't say that he minds too much. But what has started to become annoying is how Kurt can't seem to control the thoughts…or the effect they have on him.

With all his past crushes, unexpected daydreams were very happy to linger somewhere in the neighborhood of a wholesome, old-fashioned, early 20th century musical – something sweet and uplifting, with a lot of scandalous hand holding, a stolen kiss or two, and a gigantic musical number at the end. To a degree, so do his thoughts of Sebastian, so it's nice to know that some things haven't changed. But more and more, the sweet turns sexy, the handholding becomes sordid and racy, and the musical number morphs into the background soundtrack of something a little more R-rated.

Something a little more _dirty_, hence his current dilemma.

Kurt buttons the pants easily, scowling a bit at the fit – slightly baggier than would suit his normal taste, but still functional, with a certain rugged chic. As Kurt finishes dressing, his eyes drift to the abandoned bed, comforter still rumpled and pulled askew. He reaches out a hand and runs his fingertips along Sebastian's side, following the dips and curves where tossing and turning in his sleep has left a wrinkled imprint of his body. Kurt follows the disheveled pattern to the pillow, an indent remaining where Sebastian's head had lain. Kurt imagines Sebastian laying there, envisions climbing back beneath the covers, greeted by his sultry smile and those eyes, clear as the sea and so damned inviting. Kurt's mind doesn't wait a moment longer before supplying the rest. To his own disgust, he thinks he actually moans. He bites his own tongue quickly, hoping the broken sound wasn't loud enough for Sebastian to hear, and wonders when exactly he became such a teenaged boy. Where had all these rampant hormones been hiding?

A persistent rapping on the door breaks Kurt from his fantasizing. He turns to a nearby mirror to give himself a final appraisal and as his eyes travel over his body from head to toe, panic sets in. He can forgive the windblown hair, but a more obvious faux-pas than that is his untimely partial erection, visible even in the loose cut of his pants. Kurt's mind whirls disjointedly in search of a quick solution (jumping out the window comes desperately to mind and Kurt knows then that he's doomed). Sebastian opens the door without invitation and Kurt turns quickly away from the bed and walks towards the windows, keeping his back turned in an effort not to get caught. Kurt breathes in deep from the pungent air blowing in through the open window, trying to calm his urges, ignoring the stench of low-tide and the way the wind seems determined to further destroy his coiffure.

Sebastian steps fully into the room, dressed simply in torn pale denim jeans and an artfully faded t-shirt. He tosses his duffel in the corner alongside Kurt's pyramid of luggage. Their eyes meet only briefly, and though Kurt crosses invisible fingers and hopes against hope that his retreat was as smooth and relaxed in appearance as he had intended, he can see the teasing glint in Sebastian's eyes that tells him that Sebastian more than noticed his sudden distress. Sebastian's soft smile widens into an amused, if not devilish grin as he ambles up behind Kurt, keeping an arm's distance to better appreciate his view of Kurt from behind.

"I didn't take you for a desert camo and _Fall-Out Boy_ kind of guy," Sebastian observes, taking in Kurt's unusual (for Kurt, at least) ensemble.

"Well, these aren't exactly my clothes," Kurt explains, happy to see that his voice can stay cool and unaffected under pressure. "My current ensemble comes courtesy of Noah Puckerman." Kurt receives a raised eyebrow from Sebastian as he reassess Kurt's outfit. Confident that he has his body a little more under control, Kurt turns away from the window to give Sebastian an unobstructed view. "You didn't exactly indicate the level of dirty you were expecting to subject me to, and I can't very well risk my own clothes to your whims now, can I?"

Kurt doesn't miss the way Sebastian's eyes linger for a moment right at the swell of his hipbone, his tongue darting out to wet dry lips. The two actions could be completely unrelated, Kurt reasons, but considering the reaction Kurt got from a quick nip to Sebastian's hipbone while doing body shots, he seriously doubts it, and his cheeks burn deeper.

To Kurt's surprise, Sebastian scoffs.

"Look, I know you and Puck have some kind of kinky cuddle-arrangement going on," he groans, "but please tell me you aren't getting a woody just from wearing his pants."

Kurt's mind is immediately removed from his problematic half-hard on by the tone of Sebastian's voice. Kurt is sure he detects something bordering close to fondness when Sebastian refers to Puck. _When did that start?_ Kurt wonders. Most likely somewhere around the time when Puck escorted a certain drunken asshole out of Julian's party by his neck; the same night they all spent sleeping in an inebriated puppy pile on Sebastian's bed. Kurt can't help smiling thinking about how easy it all could be; Sebastian's presence in his life, slipping seamlessly into his group of friends, because really Kurt's friends are his family. It would be nice if there was a space available for Sebastian there, too.

If his friends could be as cool as Puck and Finn have already been…and if Sebastian _wants_ to be included.

Kurt could sputter out any number of excuses for his current state of partial arousal, but instead he recovers with a cheeky grin, posing arrogantly, hands on his hips,.

"Jealous?"

Sebastian shrugs, but Kurt can see by the way his green eyes shift away from his body that Sebastian has a scenario of his own concocted in his head for the reason behind Kurt's condition, and he doesn't seem too amused at all.

"Hardly," Sebastian says, covering by grabbing up his bag again and rummaging through it, completely engaged in searching around the small sack for something of such extreme importance that he can't lift his eyes for a moment to spare Kurt even a passing glance. Kurt sighs. This is part of what they are going to have to figure out in this new arrangement of theirs. Taunts and barbs are a big part of what they are together. In fact, (and Kurt never thought he would find himself admitting to it) it's one of the cornerstones of the relationship they have. It started from there, built up from it, and Kurt hopes they don't lose it. But it seems that Sebastian's impenetrable hide has a few gaping soft spots, and Kurt needs to learn not to use them as the punch line of a joke.

"What if I told you," Kurt begins, turning up his own irresistible charm, "that I was imaging you and me climbing back into bed and spending the rest of the afternoon here?"

He drifts up beside Sebastian, hands creeping up his back and over his shoulders, massaging slowly. Sebastian doesn't react at first, doesn't even acknowledge Kurt's remark, but soon a crooked grin starts to pull at the corner of his mouth.

"I would say you're not getting out of what I have planned that easily."

Sebastian pulls out a large, yellow bottle, and shakes it in front of Kurt's face.

"I recommend sunscreen," Sebastian continues, the light-hearted quality of his voice returning. "The midday sun inland can be merciless."

"Aww," Kurt teases. "Are you worried about me getting burned?"

"More like I'm worried about you baking and spending the rest of the week whining every time I try to touch you."

Sebastian flicks open the lid to the bottle and grabs Kurt's hand. Kurt tries to pull his hand away, but Sebastian's fingers wrapped around his wrist are a bit stronger. Sebastian squeezes a massive dollop of thick white lotion into Kurt's palm. Kurt sticks out his tongue in a mock look of disgust, and Sebastian laughs, scooping up half the lotion with his own fingers, intent on slathering it over his own skin, but stopping a moment to paint a drop on Kurt's nose.

Kurt enjoys this, the quips and the teasing, the easy way they communicate through jests and jabs, knowing that no matter where this week takes them, they can still be _this_ – Kurt and Sebastian, the people they were before they fell in…deep, deep like with each other (Kurt quickly amends for himself). No need to become some strange amalgam just to be together. Kurt didn't need to change to fit Sebastian.

Somehow, Kurt and Sebastian were always a fit.

* * *

Kurt is reluctant to leave their hideaway on the beach with its karma cleansing ocean behind, but he's thoroughly intrigued by what Sebastian has planned for their first day. Driving inland away from the Atlantic Coast, the sand turns into asphalt, and then bleeds into a long stretch of road flanked by vast, running expanses of vibrant green. In many ways it looks a lot like the more rural areas of Ohio, but Kurt knows down to the fringes of his soul that it's not. He cannot be fooled. He can feel the distance in his skin. He can smell the difference in the air, which seems cleaner and sweeter, carrying with it subtle notes of sweet corn and the ubiquitous aroma wild flowers.

There's something refreshing about leaving his life behind him, with all its obstacles and complications, for a while. It makes everything seem fresh and new; a do-over, like anything is possible. He can make something good for himself with his time away; he can be someone apart from his usual, put together, hyper-overachieving, sometimes snobbish self.

Cheers to the new Kurt Hummel!

As acceptance for this new adventure to find himself sinks in, he wonders for a brief and bitter second if those were the exact same thoughts Blaine had when he stepped off the plane and got his first glimpse of California, with new prospects and opportunities waiting for him – new friends, new experiences…a new love-interest.

Kurt forces himself to push those thoughts aside and focus solely on the good that surrounds him. He turns his face to watch Sebastian drive. The windows are rolled down, and the wind blows his hair around his face. He looks serene, lost in thought as he gazes off into the distance with a secretive smile dancing on his lips. Kurt never realized how intimate sharing silence with someone could be. No burden of conversation needed to make it tolerable, just existing in the same space together and feeling whole, at peace. Sebastian tilts his head to meet Kurt's eyes and the smile grows brighter, clearing all thoughts of Blaine and California away as quickly as if Sebastian had reached into Kurt's mind and erased the images with a wave of his hand.

As Sebastian predicted, it gets hot early. Sweat beads along Kurt's shoulders beneath his borrowed shirt and runs in tiny, tortuous rivers down his back. The wind rushing through the open windows of the Mustang does little more than push the heat around, but it's a silent agreement not to close the windows in favor of the air conditioner. The wind whipping around him, scouring over his skin, makes Kurt feel carefree, and at this point he's willing to suffer through any negligible discomfort to keep hold of that feeling for as long as possible.

The longer they drive, the more Kurt becomes aware that there is nothing, literally nothing, but farms and grass and wildflowers for miles, and Kurt begins to worry about the real meaning behind the words 'get dirty'. Sebastian doesn't strike Kurt as the 'farmer's market' type, but that's still a possibility. At least, Kurt hopes. What else is there to do in a farm town? Milk goats? Collect eggs? Feed pigs? He frowns at the thought of wearing tall rubber boots and tramping through the mud to slop an animal that spends the day lying around in its own filth.

After an hour of driving through the great green nil, Kurt startles at the sight of a rustic wooden sign supported by a single post stuck into the dirt that reads "The Busy Bee – 5 miles". He's even more surprised when they start to turn off the road.

"Uh…The Busy Bee?" Kurt cranes his neck to peer past the sign, hoping there is something else hiding in plain sight that is their actual destination; some other sign of civilization. He would even settle for outlet shopping (but then again, when is choosing outlet shopping really settling).

"Yup," Sebastian says, and that single syllable effectively squashes Kurt's hopes.

"As in…bees?" Kurt's mouth hangs agape. "Small, stripy, winged insects that sting?"

Sebastian gives Kurt a sidelong look and snickers.

"Yes, Kurt. Bees." Sebastian has a smug look on his face that Kurt can't quite identify. He seems particularly proud of himself, and for the life of him Kurt can't imagine why.

"So, we drove over an hour…in the near Mercury-level heat…to look at bees?" Kurt glowers, but despite it all he has to admit that it's cute and completely out-of-character, though he's still not entirely certain what must have been going through Sebastian's mind when he chose this as their first vacation excursion. "What if I get stung?" Kurt whines, trying more to tease than provoke Sebastian. "What if I'm allergic?"

"Then I'll perform mouth-to-mouth," Sebastian counters smoothly with a suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

"Yeah, like that's going to help when my throat's swelling shut." Kurt throws his arms across his chest for added emphasis.

"Look," Sebastian says, his voice sounding tight as he tries not to rise to Kurt's ribbing. "I know you're not allergic to Goddamned bees!"

Sebastian's conviction at this statement strikes Kurt as odd. Kurt's _not_ allergic, but he didn't find out until just a few months before graduation. The only other person who knows this little tidbit of information is Blaine, who happened to be there with Kurt when he got stung, on the butt of all places, during a nearly failed attempt at crossing off #26 on his bucket list – 'Go skinny dipping'.

Which means that Blaine told Sebastian that he got stung…on the butt.

Kurt is torn between wanting to race out to California immediately to strangle a certain ex-Warbler, and dying of complete and utter mortification.

Kurt feels the Mustang pull to the side of the road as Sebastian starts to slow down and bring the car to a stop on the shoulder. Kurt's already thinking of an appropriate way to express his objections to Sebastian's knowledge of Kurt's humiliating prior injury just to see what kind of dig Sebastian will come up with, but the way Sebastian's jaw locks, his eyes going a little hard, and a slight red tinge coloring his tan cheeks, gives Kurt a moment of pause. An unexpected look of dejection and disappointment cloud Sebastian's piercing green eyes, but it's there for only a second. And it isn't just an, "Oh well, this was a bust. Better luck next time," sort of disappointment. It was more of an, "I majorly screwed the pooch this time," expression of complete failure. It reminds Kurt of the look on Sebastian's face that night at the sushi restaurant in Columbus, when Sebastian accidentally doused his shirt in soy sauce and spilled a glass of water in his lap. All of a sudden Kurt finds himself feeling like he should ask for forgiveness for his thoughtless response.

Sebastian takes a deep, calming breath, eyes scanning the land around them – the peaceful, raw, natural, and otherwise deserted stretch of road that lay for mile and miles ahead. Kurt can tell by the way Sebastian's eyes shift left to right that he's thinking, calculating something.

"Thoughts? Ideas?" Sebastian says at last.

"About what?" Kurt replies innocently, hoping to root out the source of Sebastian's inexplicable disappointment.

"About where we should go now," Sebastian huffs, throwing his hands in the air and letting them land in his lap, gripping at his thighs out of aggravation.

"I want to go there," Kurt says, pointing out the window and affecting the tone of a petulant child in an attempt to soothe Sebastian's mood. Sebastian turns wide, incredulous eyes on him.

"But, I thought…" he sputters, which makes Kurt's lips curl into a smile that tries so hard to look guileless and fails. "What about you bitching about getting stung and being allergic?"

"That doesn't mean I don't want to go." Kurt shrugs. He can't stop the grin that continues to grow, but he fights like mad to contain the laugh that's itching to bubble out of his throat.

Sebastian scowls, but Kurt can see the smile in his eyes.

"Kurt Hummel," Sebastian says, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the waiting Mustang back to life, "I hope you get stung on the ass."

"It wouldn't be the first time." Kurt keeps his eyes on Sebastian as he pulls the car back onto the road, cherishing the grin that returns, the genuine smile that makes Kurt melt; the one he knows Sebastian saves just for him. That grin makes him bold, makes him ache for the full power of it, the way it never fails to light up Sebastian's face. He leans over slightly, batting long, walnut-colored lashes.

"If I do, would you kiss it and make it better?"

Sebastian's answer is a low, broken noise, somewhere between a moan and a growl that washes over Kurt, making his skin tingle.

"Whatever you want, babe," Sebastian says finally, tossing a wink Kurt's way.

* * *

Sebastian takes the exit when they come across a much larger version of the first road sign they saw; rickety and faded, campy with its carving of a cartoonish bee pointing them in the right direction, but welcoming in a down-home country sort of way. The road changes from black-top to dirt, forcing Sebastian to roll up the windows to avoid the car filling up with the dust and gravel the tires kick up. He switches on the air-conditioner and the flood of cool air that fills the car offers immediate relief from the scorching, dry wind outside. Kurt slides down in his seat, letting the air hit him full in the face, the sigh of relief that escapes his lips bordering on pornographic.

"Better?" Sebastian asks, but the question is mainly rhetorical. That sigh of Kurt's definitely did not slip by Sebastian unnoticed. His whole body responds to it, and suddenly Sebastian feels like an imbecile, dragging them out in the heat when Kurt's suggestion of 'staying in bed back at the beach house' was, by far, the superior suggestion. He scrubs his sweaty face with his hand; threading his fingers through stiff, dusty locks; and then wipes his hand on his jeans. Kurt's eyes follow the movement and cringes at the trail of brown muck Sebastian's hand leaves on the light-colored denim.

"You're really not the outdoors type, are you, Hummel?" Sebastian jokes over Kurt's tut of disgust.

"Really perceptive, Smythe," Kurt drones, turning his attention back out the car window at the now changing scenery. "What was your first fucking clue?"

Kurt's eyes scan the quaint atmosphere of the estate ahead of them, noticing that this is definitely a working farm – not trussed up or decorated for visitors in any way, with the exception of the signs on the road. Several small, white-washed, barn-style buildings stand in a square formation ahead of them, and off to one corner, constructed to resemble an old-tyme trading post but looking more like an afterthought, stands a tiny roadside stall selling jars of honey along with some seasonal produce and flowers.

It boggles Kurt's mind; so _Little House on the Prairie_-esque, and not like Sebastian Smythe at all.

"How in the world did you even find this place?" Kurt asks, trying his best to picture Sebastian Smythe on his phone, feverishly Googling 'bee farms'.

"I've driven by here a couple of times with my family, but we've never stopped to look around." Sebastian pulls the car to a stop in a makeshift parking lot that's little more than a square plot of dirt cleared of weeds and grass with chalk lines drawn to indicate spaces. He kills the engine and pulls the key from the ignition while a dubious Kurt looks on in staunch disbelief.

"We're really going here?" Kurt questions.

"We're really going here," Sebastian responds with a nod.

"This isn't a joke?"

Sebastian drops his head back onto the seat.

"This isn't a joke, Kurt," Sebastian groans. "Now get out of the car."

Kurt waits just a moment longer, to see if he can call Sebastian's bluff, but one look at his determined green eyes tells Kurt this is no joke, but on the other hand, Sebastian is making no move to exit the vehicle either. Instead, his eyes dart from the glove box back to Kurt until Sebastian seems to make a decision about _something_. He reaches past Kurt and opens the compartment, sticks a hand in, fishes around, and pulls it back out quickly, his fist wrapped tightly around an object that he stuffs into the pocket of his jeans without letting Kurt have a peek. From the outline it leaves, it looks like a pen, but why Sebastian would be so secretive about a pen Kurt hasn't the foggiest idea. Sebastian shuts the glove box and motions to Kurt's door.

"Move it, Kurt. I'm not going to carry you."

Kurt pushes open the car door and rolls out onto his feet dramatically, grumbling under his breath, but Sebastian makes an even bigger show of pretending not to hear. They start down the dirt road in silence, Kurt moping a bit in his confusion, stealing glances at Sebastian's face and its completely unreadable expression, but if Kurt had to narrow it down he would call it a mixture of nervousness, excitement, and anticipation. Kurt is overwhelmed by his curiosity, dying to know what exactly it was about him that screamed 'bee farm', but his questions are shoved to the back-burner by the appearance of a petite, rotund woman in ill-fitting jeans and a flannel button-down shirt jogging their way, her beet red face beaming at them as if she hasn't seen anyone in decades.

"Welcome to the Busy _Bee_," she pants, waving emphatically, adding extra emphasis to the word 'bee' when she speaks. "I'm _Be_atrice, and I will _be_ your guide today."

"Hello, Beatrice," the two boys answer back in a slightly muddled unison, but Beatrice claps in utter delight. As soon as the plucky woman turns away to lead them down the road, Kurt wheels around to Sebastian with a pained look on his pleading face. Sebastian responds with a not-too-subtle smack on the ass to shoo Kurt along.

"Are you gentlemen here for the tour?" Beatrice calls over her shoulder, peeking back to make sure her two guests are still following her.

"Why, yes," Sebastian coos past Kurt's objecting head shaking. He grabs Kurt's elbow, forcing him to keep up, his own shoulders trembling with quiet laughter.

"I hate you," Kurt whispers under his breath as he stumbles unwillingly along, aiming a kick at Sebastian's shin and cursing when he misses.

They stop at the first of the white barn houses. Beatrice disappears inside for a moment and returns with a pile of clothes draped over her arms. Sebastian smirks at the face Kurt makes when she hands him a pair of extra-large coveralls.

"Where's your bedazzler when you need it, huh, babe?"

Kurt wanted to balk at wearing second-hand clothes, but he holds his tongue, quelling the urge to poke fun at the drab pair of coveralls. Something about them, the heavy sepia-colored cloth, worn with age and a multitude of hands pulling at the fabric, faded from the hot summer sun, triggers a memory. It's barely a whisper at first, something he mulls over while he pulls the suit on over his clothes, cringing momentarily at the thought of how many unwashed people must have perspired in this outfit. He pulls the sleeves over his arms, waiting for Sebastian to break the silence with a well-timed mock about how long it's taking him to get ready, but when he catches a glimpse of Sebastian, standing a few feet in front of him, already completely dressed and holding his bonnet beneath his arm, the look in Sebastian's eyes is one of interest…or maybe expectation? Like he's waiting for the answer to a question of his own.

Kurt adjusts the collar of the suit. He flips his hair away from his face and slips the bonnet over his head.

"Well, well, well," Beatrice comments, as she fastens the Velcro collar of her suit and slips her bonnet over her frizzy salt and pepper hair. "Aren't you two the handsomest pair of men who ever came to see a bee vomit."

There it is.

That's the comment that opens the flood gates, and a torrent of suppressed memories come flooding back with a vengeance.

_"Kurt! Sweetheart! Be careful how much powdered sugar you put on those beignets!"_

_Kurt sighs, but shows no sign of stopping._

_"But, mom! It tastes better that way."_

_Elizabeth rescues the sifter from the hands of her precocious little boy._

_"Portion control is key," she stresses. "Here, why don't we put the sifter away and get started with the honey glaze?"_

_"Mom…" Kurt stares down at his fingers, watching as the dust of powdery white turns into a sweet paste as he rolls it around between his fingers. "What is honey made from?"_

_Kurt looks back at his mother, her patient smile turning into something more mischievous._

_"Do you really want to know?" she asks, leaning in close as if what she is about to say is a carefully guarded secret._

_Kurt nods his head enthusiastically, blue eyes shining with excitement._

_"Do you really, really want to know?"_

_"Yes, mommy," Kurt giggles, scooting closer to hang on her every word._

_His mom's eyes twinkle as she gets as close to his ear as possible and whispers, "It's bee vomit!"_

_Kurt pulls away, and the look of horror and disbelief in his eyes makes his mom double over in a fit of laughter._

_"You're lying!" Kurt gasps; upset that his mom would not only tease him, but that she would make fun of him, too._

_Elizabeth can read all of this in the way Kurt's face falls, and his lower lip juts out in a tiny pout._

_"Oh, sweetheart," she coos, pulling her son into her lap and wrapping her arms around him. "I'm serious. It's true."_

_Kurt looks at his mom, trying to catch her lie in the crinkle of skin around her eyes, or the crooked smile on her lips. But it isn't there, because his mom never lies to him. _

_"Do you think we can see them someday?"_

_Kurt's mom pulls a ridiculous face._

_"You want to see bees vomit?" she asks._

_"No! Well, yeah…I just want to see how they do it. How they make the honey."_

_Elizabeth cradles her son in her lap and pecks kisses in his hair._

_"Yeah," she says, warming up to the idea a bit herself. "I guess we can do that."_

The memory fades as a hand shakes Kurt's arm gently, but potent fragments of it linger – the smell of his mother's perfume, light and floral, cling to Kurt's sinuses with every shuddering inhale; the way her arms felt safe and warm embracing him; the soft caress of her shoulder-length hair as it danced around her shoulders and stroked his cheek. That day spent baking with his mom, the whole kitchen covered in a fine dusting of powdered sugar, is one of the last vivid memories Kurt has of his mom. After she died, he relived it over and over until every second imprinted itself in his brain. It was his safe-haven, a place he could get lost in during those times when he needed her most. But as he grew older, that memory got shoved away with all of the others, not because he wanted to forget his mother, but as a way to keep him sane.

They resurfaced only once a year or so ago when his father had his heart attack and collapsed at work. Kurt sat by his father's bedside, watching helplessly while he lay in a coma. He held his father's hand, trying to bring him back, and when all seemed lost, he took those memories of his mom out from their hiding place and revisited them again. They helped him through just as much as they broke his heart.

After he got his father back, he realized the time they had left together was precious, and that it could be taken away without any warning. He devoted a small section of his bucket list to things his dad had always mentioned wanting to do together. If he remembered correctly, in a moment of sentimentality, he might have even added the bee thing. He'd have to check his phone when they got back to the beach house to make sure.

"Come on now, Hummel. You're not going to get emotional over wearing a second-hand jumpsuit for a couple of hours, are you?" Sebastian's voice is soft, asking so much more. Kurt knows it's a cover. It's his way of making sure that Kurt's okay.

"No," Kurt says weakly, letting what's left of the memory of his mom - her beautiful blue eyes - go back away in safe-keeping for now.

Beatrice takes them on the tour, and Kurt opens himself up to the experience, paying genuine attention as she leads them through the fields, pointing out the numerous types of flowers growing and explaining how they change the flavor of the honey – mellow from the bees that sip from the wildflowers, stronger from the ones that travel miles away to the orchards along the coast. She pulls apart one of the wooden hives and shows them the individual pieces, pointing out where the queen is kept and where the bees hide and protect their brood. Kurt gains a new respect for the animated older woman, marveling at her fearlessness as she dislodges a frame full of alarmed bees, sending them buzzing around her head in warning. Kurt knows he's not allergic, but he isn't looking forward to being stung either.

"_Be_ careful as we walk _be_tween the hive boxes," Beatrice warns, pointing to the stacks of white squares nestled in among the gardens and a small outcropping of trees as they make their way back to the entrance. The air is heavy with the intense sound of buzzing as the noon sun, beating down above their heads, calls the bees out of their hives in droves. Kurt turns to Sebastian to see if he's fairing the extreme heat better than Kurt (who has all but turned to a human puddle inside his jumpsuit), but the look on Sebastian's face as they make their way through the thickening swarm stuns him. Sebastian's body is rigid as he shuffles his way through the tall grass, his eyes wide and unblinking, breaths coming fast and shallow. If Kurt didn't know better he would say Sebastian looks scared to death.

Kurt takes Sebastian's hand and squeezes it reassuringly. Sebastian's eyes dart down to meet Kurt's soothing gaze, and Kurt sees him relax, relief flowing through him from that single touch. Kurt's heart slams in his chest as he begins to realize just how far the power of his touch extends, the many facets in which he has a definite effect on Sebastian – physically and emotionally. Sebastian doesn't just need a chance to find love. He also needs to find someone he can trust implicitly.

Kurt knows that sometimes love is the easy part. People fall in and out of it every single day. But trust takes time. It needs to be earned.

Hands locked together, they make their way back to the small white house. Once inside they disrobe quickly, shaking away a few of the stragglers from their clothes, and as the layers come off, Sebastian seems to uncover himself again. Sebastian smirks when he notices Kurt watch him undress.

"There you go again," he remarks slyly, hanging his coveralls on a hook and starting out the barn door. Kurt blinks and shakes his head, not understanding.

"Go again what?" Kurt asks, hanging his coveralls on a separate hook and following Sebastian out the door.

"You still can't keep your eyes off me."

Kurt chuckles and Sebastian laughs once, letting the sound turn into a groan, bellyaching loudly.

"Seriously, if I ever have another idea like this one, I give you full permission to punch me in the face."

Kurt smiles at the invitation.

"Well, then can I go ahead and punch you now? You know, in case you have another stupid idea and I forget."

"Nope," Sebastian says sternly, destroying the effect of seriousness with his crooked grin. "In that case you'll just miss out."

Kurt walks beside Sebastian back to the car, kicking at pebbles and loose rocks along the way, watching them tumble ahead of them in the dirt, leaving a little trail of dust in their wake.

"You know…this might sound weird, but thank you for taking me here." Kurt sighs, recalling his moment of nostalgia and the forgotten feelings of baking in the kitchen with his mom. He wishes he still had her to talk to – about Sebastian, about Blaine, about NYADA. "Believe it or not, this was actually something I have always wanted to do…something me and my mom had planned to do together. I guess I just forgot."

"Yeah, that is weird, Hummel," Sebastian says, eyes fixed on a point in the distance, a self-satisfied smile on his face. He kicks a rock that crosses Kurt's path, and Kurt kicks it back.

"I'm sorry…" Sebastian kicks the rock again and smiles when Kurt stops it with his foot instead of just letting it roll to halt, "if coming here brought up bad memories of your mom. That wasn't my intention."

"I know." Kurt passes the rock back to Sebastian, who gives it one final hard kick and sends it flying into the grass. "And it didn't. I promise."

Sebastian nods and unlocks the passenger door of the Mustang. Kurt reaches for the door handle, but Sebastian opens it instead, rolling his eyes when Kurt shoots him a quizzical look.

"Don't read too much into it." Sebastian watches Kurt lower himself into the seat. "You look dead on your feet, and I don't need you passing out on me now."

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when I put on a twenty pound canvas jumpsuit and traipse around a field in 9,000 degree heat for an hour," Kurt gripes. Kurt fastens his seatbelt while Sebastian snakes into the car over him to return the mysterious, grey, pen-looking object back to the glove box. From this new angle, Kurt manages to get a good look at it this time, recognition making his eyes go wide. He has seen it before. Coach Tanaka used to carry that same type of epi-pen out on the field during football practices.

"Wait! You're allergic to bees?" Kurt asks, dumbfounded.

"Lots of people are allergic to bees," Sebastian informs him. "Maybe not you, babe, but lots of people."

"Yeah, a lot of people are, but if you need to carry emergency lifesaving medication then it goes from being a tiny allergy to something fairly fatal!" Kurt finds himself yelling in the face of Sebastian's nonchalance. "Are you a fucking masochist or something?"

"Babe," Sebastian says, leaning in to peck a kiss on Kurt's nose, "I'm dating you. I would think the answer is kind of obvious."


	3. ACITW AU CH23C

**A/N:** _So here we have the last third of chapter 23, which finishes out their first full day at the beach house :) Now for those of you who feel that my AU is a little light on the angst, worry not. I'm giving our boys a bit of a honeymoon period to figure out how they're going to fit together and form a relationship, but it'll get angsty soon enough ;)_

Kurt watches Sebastian walk around the back of the Mustang on his way to the driver's side door, and the second he opens it, Kurt starts in on him again.

"Did you ever stop to think what would happen if you got stung?" Kurt asks, his voice rising with concern. He knows he should dial down the crazy. After all, for whatever reason Sebastian may have had for bringing Kurt here, he tried to plan a perfect day for them, and Kurt doesn't want this one revelation to ruin the rest of it, but Kurt can't help feeling that it was irresponsible of Sebastian to put his life at risk like this.

"Yeah," Sebastian mutters, sounding slightly irritated. "It's not like I haven't been allergic to bees my whole life. Whatever would we have done?"

Sebastian sinks down into the car seat and slams the door shut. He wraps his fingers around the steering and squeezes it tight, though Kurt thinks it looks more like he's throttling the poor thing.

"Where to now, Evil Knievel?" Kurt scoffs. "Cliff diving? Bungee jumping? I mean, since we're obviously showing no regard for life and limb today."

Sebastian's stomach answers for him, growling loudly and catching Kurt off-guard in the middle of his rant. Kurt laughs, not really meaning to, until his own stomach joins in the conversation.

Sebastian relaxes his death-grip on the steering wheel and smiles.

"Well, if you're done with the atomic bitch-fest, I take it that's two votes for lunch," Sebastian says. "Unless there are any other objections."

"Not…at…all." Kurt sighs in relief. "I had a great time, but right now, I would like to _be_ anywhere else." Sebastian groans at the well-worn pun and Kurt grins, turning his head in all directions to get a good look around. "But, currently we're in the middle of not-so-scenic nowhere."

Sebastian turns the key in the ignition and revs the engine.

"If I remember correctly, there's a place not too far from here actually."

"Thank God!" Kurt blows a kiss to the small roadside stand and the hive spattered gardens of the Busy Bee. "_Be_ gone!" he crows. "_Be_ seeing you! We won't _be_ back!"

"Okay, Kurt," Sebastian deadpans, concentrating on doing a U-turn without spinning out in the loose dirt. "You can stop any time." Sebastian lets the tires burn on the gravel road for a second before they peel out onto the asphalt and leave the bee farm far behind.

Sebastian's memory is infallible. The tiny outdoor café he finds is only a hop, skip and a jump away. They literally could have walked the distance. Kurt's eyes go wide when he sees it, letting the reality of it sink in fully before he breaks down, laughing uncontrollably at the look on Sebastian's face as they pull into the parking lot of The Busy Bee Café – the same cartoonish bee adorning the overhanging awning, the same rustic-looking wood signs along the main road, each one cheerily adorned with the dread-inducing statement, "Last food stop for fifty miles".

"So, can I punch you _now_?" Kurt asks. Sebastian stays dangerously silent, responding by shoving Kurt on the shoulder.

"If I drive at a hundred the whole way, we might be able to find something else in less than half an hour," Sebastian reasons out loud, putting the car in reverse.

"No," Kurt whines, tugging on Sebastian's arm, "I'm starving! And I don't remember us passing anything along the way, so please…"

"Alright, alright." Sebastian relents, putting the Mustang back into park. "Just…stop making that obnoxious noise with your mouth."

To Kurt's surprise, the purveyors of The Busy Bee Café put quite a bit of thought into their overall curb appeal. The whimsical eatery has all of the same unsophisticated charm that the adjoining farm did. A simple, uncomplicated barn-themed structure houses the kitchen and a spacious indoor eating area. Even hailing from rural Ohio, Kurt considers himself a man of upscale, sophisticated design tastes, but Kurt has to admire the choice of black iron Bistro-style tables complimented with unpretentious, clear globe vases, each filled with a handful of fresh wildflowers bound with raffia. The picnic tables outside are their own unique works of art, but they still manage to tie together a unified theme. Each one had been washed in a coat of yellow or white paint, meticulously decorated with vines of colorful flowers traveling in swirl patterns up the legs and scrolling over the seats and table tops. The flowers and vines serve as frames for quotes, a different one for each table, and eclectic in their selection – some from the Bible, some from literature, some lyrics from songs.

The food on the menu is a perfect match to the overall atmosphere; traditional Americana with a Southern flair, and everything served with a generous side of biscuits and honey.

Even with the adorable shabby chic décor of the indoor café, Kurt convinces Sebastian to eat their meal outdoors. Luckily, there is no shortage of tress and the temperature is a good twenty degrees cooler in the shade.

"You know, all in all, I think we're two for two as far as restaurants go," Kurt says, picking through the various leaves of his indulgent peach, chicken, and pecan salad; lining up each ingredient on the tines of his fork in order to insure the perfect bite. Sebastian watches Kurt's ritual with an amused smirk as he devours his own BLT with much less ceremony. "But if we keep this up, I think I'm going to go up a size."

"I'm sure we can figure out a way to work it off," Sebastian drawls suggestively. Kurt stares at Sebastian, condescension written on the smooth planes of his face.

"That wasn't very original," Kurt remarks, returning to his salad. "Are you tired, or are you losing your touch?"

"Fine," Sebastian says, any trace of lurid suggestion gone from his voice. "I promise we'll be eating nothing but boiled leek soup from here on out."

Kurt's smile blooms slowly, but he doesn't look up from his salad to meet Sebastian's playful green eyes. Instead he has become captivated by the quote that embellishes the table top where they sit. Painted in brown, each letter given depth with a slight shadow of beige, flowing effortlessly back and forth between the wooden slats of the table top are the words: _"Every little thing wants to be loved."_

Kurt can't imagine a more appropriate quote, considering the circumstances. So often Kurt had assumed that Sebastian knew nothing about being in love; too hard-hearted and too much of a cynic for paltry things like love to be of any importance to him, but never once did he consider that maybe Sebastian wanted to learn. At times, especially when Sebastian saw Blaine's text messages on Kurt's phone, when he tore Blaine apart for leaving Kurt behind and using the enormity of his love as an excuse, what Sebastian knew or wanted seemed irrelevant. In the end, what did _Kurt_ really know about love? How could he claim to have some intrinsic knowledge on the subject when he couldn't see Blaine's plan for what it was – idiotic?

Wasn't it Sebastian who pointed that out to him; calling Blaine out for his stupidity?

Maybe Sebastian knows more about being in love than Kurt gives him credit for; an aspect of his own that Sebastian can teach Kurt if given the chance. An undercurrent of warmth at the thought of learning how to love Sebastian wraps around Kurt's spine as he recalls all the kisses, all the touches, all the moments of jealousy and the significant looks they've shared, each one carrying with it a thread of deeper meaning, unexpressed and woefully undervalued, that Kurt longs to unearth and experience fully.

An errant car speeding by on the otherwise deserted road draws Kurt back from the silence. He eases out of his thoughts, gaze lifting to see Sebastian looking pensively at the quote on the table top, too; his eyes following along the words, tracing over them one at a time. Sebastian's look of intense concentration intrigues Kurt, but just when Kurt expects Sebastian to make some sort of erudite observation, instead he huffs a short, annoyed laugh.

"What is it?" Kurt asks, feeling offended on behalf of the quote that has found a special place in his heart.

"That quote is from the book _The Secret Life of Bees_," Sebastian clarifies, shaking his head and finishing off the last of his sandwich. "We're not going to get away from those little motherfuckers, are we?"

Kurt rolls his eyes even though he's inclined to agree, tucking into the rest of his salad while Sebastian starts tearing apart chunks of one biscuit and dipping it in the thick amber pool of wildflower honey.

"Do you think we ran into the guys that made this batch?" Sebastian ponders, and Kurt snickers at the ridiculous statement. Sebastian pops the saturated portion in his mouth, but not quick enough to catch a few drops that miss his mouth and land on the contour of his lip, threatening to drip down his chin. Kurt stops and stares as the lingering drop goes unnoticed and another piece of biscuit follows the first. After the third bite, Sebastian catches Kurt staring. His eyes shift left to right and an absurd smile lifts his lips.

"What?" Sebastian asks, his voice muffled around a mouthful of half-chewed biscuit, but at least he's decent enough to put a hand up over his mouth to lessen the gross factor of talking with his mouth full.

"N-nothing," Kurt stutters, the edges of his lips lifting to form the hint of a smile, eyes twinkling in the subdued sunlight, and a single thought swirling through his mind like a Tilt-A-Whirl. The thought of how much he wants to lick that drop of honey off Sebastian's skin. Kurt's rational mind weighs his options carefully, second-guessing every step he wants to take. He's eager to shift gears, be bold, jump in and take the first step. He needs to find a way to show Sebastian that he wants to move forward. They have already crossed so many different lines during the course of their 'fake' relationship, others blurring to the point that they've dissolved entirely. He doesn't want to cycle all the way back to the beginning, ironically, as they try to take things to the next level.

As this inner debate continues to run its course, Kurt starts to move, climbing catlike across the table, thoughts flipping back to their lunch in Virginia, thumbing through the memory till it lands on the image of Sebastian wiping the mustard from Kurt's face; the light brush of his thumb grazing the corner of Kurt's mouth, the way it lingered, tracing down his cheek, and that look on Sebastian's face after, the one that told Kurt that Sebastian is as uncertain about stepping into this new territory as he is.

Kurt doesn't want to be stuck in the mire of uncertainty anymore. So much of his life seems up in the air, balancing precariously like plates spinning on sticks with him at the bottom frantically trying to keep them aloft, but bracing for the inevitable fall. Sebastian is the one thing right now that Kurt wants to be absolutely sure of.

Taking a cue from the memory replaying in his head, he reaches out his hand and with a finger he's fighting to keep steady, collects the drip of honey from off Sebastian's lip. Sebastian swallows hard at the first touch of Kurt's fingertip against his skin, his tongue sweeping over his lip slowly, as if chasing Kurt's finger.

Time suspends them in this discreet patch of dappled shade with Kurt poised in front of Sebastian, his finger hovering in the air. Without thinking, Kurt sticks the finger in his mouth and sucks off the drop of honey, eliciting a moan from Sebastian that definitely doesn't sound uncertain or unsure. Sebastian's green eyes go dark, glued to Kurt's mouth, mesmerized by the way his lips surround his finger, the subtle movement of his jaw, the way his cheeks hollow.

"Do you think you got it all?" Sebastian asks, his voice rough and shuddering ever so slightly.

Kurt slips his finger from his mouth and appraises Sebastian's face thoughtfully, biting his lip and tilting his head, preparing for his next move.

"You know, I think I'd better make sure."

It takes less than a second to decide; after all of Kurt's hedging, kissing Sebastian turns out to be easy; easy as breathing and bending and meeting each other half way. They don't simply touch when they kiss; they connect, but it's different from this morning's kiss on the beach. The fire between them doesn't ignite during this kiss. It's unhurried, relaxed; it simmers, content to flow and carry them along wherever it goes. Even when Kurt's tongue licks along the seam of Sebastian's mouth, wiping the rest of the honey away, and Sebastian leans forward, resting a hand at the base of Kurt's neck, rubbing at the knot in his spine with his thumb, Kurt decides not to take the kiss further. He leaves this kiss to worm its way inside Sebastian's brain and take root so that he wants more…so that he has to think about what exactly 'more' might mean.

Kurt pulls away, pecking one last, chaste kiss over Sebastian's chin before retreating back to his side of the table.

Sebastian's eyes are still closed when Kurt sits on the bench, and right before he opens them, he runs his tongue over his lower lip, revisiting the spot where Kurt's tongue had been.

"What was that?" Sebastian asks, inhaling suddenly as if he forgot how to breathe and only remembered again now.

Kurt has an idea in his head, that maybe Sebastian can consider it an invitation, but he doesn't have enough courage to voice it out loud.

Where is a bottle of tequila when you need it?

"It's whatever you want it to be," Kurt replies with a shrug, busying himself with piling his plastic fork and knife into the plastic deli container that had contained his salad. Sebastian watches him through narrow eyelids, chewing around a thought, his lips curling into his patented, devious smirk.

"I think I'll take it as our cue to leave," Sebastian says, hopping off his bench and gathering up the trash from the table. Kurt eyes him as he tosses their garbage away and then immediately heads off in the direction of the Mustang, spinning around in a half-circle once to make sure Kurt follows. Kurt smiles and stands up from the bench to join him. He takes once last look at the quote on the table, running the flat of his hand over the painted words, setting them to memory.

_"Every little thing wants to be loved."_

Kurt doesn't know when it happens. One minute he's sitting in the Mustang, staring out the window as they speed back to the coast, singing along with Sebastian to the Scissor Sisters _'I Don't Feel Like Dancin', _occasionally cut off by a persistent yawn that refuses to be squashed. He blinks to banish the dust and lubricate his dry eyes. He blinks once, twice, but the next time he blinks they are back at the beach house, pulling into the carport. An hour flew by completely unnoticed, and even though he recognizes that he must have really needed the sleep if he fell out so completely, he regrets not spending that time talking and singing; he regrets missing the opportunity to find out more about Sebastian in those covert ways in which he discloses his secrets. If their hapless adventure this afternoon has proven anything to Kurt, it's that he knows practically nothing about this boy he's fallen so hard for.

All this time they have spent in each other's company and Kurt never knew Sebastian had a life-threatening allergy? That seems like the kind of information a friend – not to mention a "boyfriend" – would know.

Kurt considers the things that time and familiarity usually reveal during the course of a relationship.

Out of the impressive collection of tomes he surrounds himself with, which one is Sebastian's favorite?

Fuck…how about his favorite color? Favorite food? Favorite movie? Favorite subject in school?

What about his plans for the future; a future that is barreling toward them full-speed ahead?

But Kurt doesn't want to dwell on the heavy right now, not when Sebastian's looking over at him with a grin that says he's thinking of a million ways to tease one seriously bedraggled Kurt Hummel.

"Wh-what the hell happened?" Kurt groans, his throat parched, his voice gravelly.

"You fell asleep," Sebastian says smoothly, killing the engine and pocketing the keys. "Incidentally, you snore like a tractor."

Kurt sits up quickly, jaw dropping to his knees.

"Take that back!" Kurt gasps.

"Can't." Sebastian opens the car door, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Kurt. "It's truth time."

Kurt opens his door and follows suit, chasing after Sebastian, bent on vengeance, but he's derailed mid-jab by another matter of the utmost importance – the potential of another morning without his obligatory first cup of coffee.

"Fuck!" Kurt exclaims, throwing an exasperated hand to his face and rubbing his tired eyes with the heel of his palm.

"Here?" Sebastian quips back quickly, raising an interested eyebrow. Kurt doesn't comment back, deciding to let Sebastian have this win. Even he has to admit he walked into that one, but Sebastian's roguish expression has him seriously considering rising to the challenge. What exactly would Sebastian do if Kurt sashayed over to him, eyes brimming with unrestrained desire, tore off his clothes and leapt into his arms? But Kurt reconsiders. The floor of the carport looks hard and uncomfortable.

"No," Kurt grouses. "We forgot to stop at the supermarket, and I'm not exactly looking forward to oyster cracker and easy cheese soufflé for dinner."

"Well, actually, I have an idea." Sebastian's voice drops, taking on a low, silky quality; the easy twist from playful to something akin to seduction sends chills over Kurt, spiraling around him, burying deep into his stomach, pooling with heat. Sebastian advances on Kurt, trapping him in the allure of whatever promise lies hidden behind his grass-green eyes.

Maybe Kurt's invitation in that kiss earlier came through louder than he thought.

Would Sebastian really take him up on it?

"Yeah?" Kurt asks lamely, but when Sebastian looks at him with that mysterious dark gaze, Kurt's mind goes blank. Kurt's body yearns for him, and he is dying to know how long Sebastian intends on making him wait.

The cold cement wall hits Kurt's shoulders as he backs into it, and he swears he hears his heated skin hiss with the contact.

"What's your idea?"

Kurt wants to cringe at his sudden inability to come up with any witty or even slightly provocative banter, but he doesn't care, because Sebastian is standing so close, crowding in against him, every blessed square inch of their bodies pressed together, and his lips are hovering so near. A lean, a slight incline is all it would take…

"I want _you_, Kurt Hummel," Sebastian whispers, and Kurt, his eyes fluttering closed, waiting for this kiss that promises to burn, misses how Sebastian's lips begin to curl, "to dig for clams."

A thin, cold, and metal object drops into Kurt's hand, dangling off his fingertips. His eyes snap open, his fingers folding reflexively around something that feels suspiciously like a wire, and he's torn between an urge to throttle Sebastian for goading him so cruelly, or hanging himself for falling for it so damned hard.

"So, what exactly are we doing?" Kurt calls as he trails after Sebastian, metal bucket in hand, hopping over jutting stones and cursing every time the soft underside of his foot comes in contact with a sharp and pitted rock, saving himself from falling on his ass several times when his heel hits random patches of slimy lichens. He stops on a fairly stable plateau overlooking the oncoming white-caps of the splashing surf to roll up the cuffs of his pants. These might not be the most stylish clothes, but he's going to do his best not to completely ruin them. Kurt hurries to catch up when he sees how far ahead Sebastian has gotten, frowning that he didn't stop to wait and trying hard not to be impressed at how comfortable he is leaping from one dicey-looking rock to the other.

"We're going to find some mud flats," Sebastian calls over his shoulder, unwilling to break his stride, "and dig the clams up. It's pretty self-explanatory." Sebastian only stops when he hears Kurt's squeal of distress, racing back in time to rescue him as he slips, teetering on the edge of a narrow ledge that's being pounded mercilessly by the surf, and almost falling headlong into the ocean.

"Fuck, Kurt!" Sebastian yells at first, taking a long breath in as he steadies himself with Kurt bracing against him for dear life. Kurt waits, sure some angry insult is going to follow, some comment about how clumsy he is, but Sebastian sighs through clenched teeth, and Kurt knows he's trying.

"Careful there, babe," Sebastian says instead with barely the ghost of his original frustration evident in his voice. "I don't need you washing away with the tide." Sebastian sets Kurt upright on the rock beside him, holding Kurt's hips securely until he is sure that Kurt can stand on his own. "That happens to be our one and only bucket." Kurt sneers as Sebastian starts again on his rampant pace, but doesn't miss how Sebastian keeps their hands locked.

After close to thirty minutes of leaping from rock to rock and dodging waves, Kurt considers asking if they're going to walk the entire length of the Atlantic coast. They're a good distance from the beach house. Kurt looks back over his shoulder and can barely see it on the dune where it sits overlooking the ocean. Sebastian stops suddenly and it's all Kurt can do to keep from slamming into him and tipping them both into the water. Sebastian looks down from the shelf of rock where they stand and nods to himself.

"Here." Sebastian reaches into the pockets of the board shorts he had changed into before they left on this shellfish scavenger hunt, pulls out two balled-up pairs of white tube socks, hands one pair to Kurt and keeps the second pair for himself. "Put those on."

"So, that's what you had in there?" Kurt asks, unrolling the socks and looking them over quizzically. "And I thought you were just excited to see me."

"When I'm excited to see you, Hummel, you'll know," Sebastian says with a quick, lust-filled glance down Kurt's body that makes Kurt's face flame red. Sebastian balances on one foot as he pulls on a sock, glancing up at Kurt when he notices his reluctance to move.

"Babe, you're really going to want to put those on," Sebastian urges, finishing with his second sock.

"But, they're going to get all soaked and mucky," Kurt grumbles, starting to slip the first sock over his sandy foot with a grimace.

"Better than getting the bottom of your feet torn to shreds." Sebastian dusts his hands off on his shorts. "Some of those clam shells are razor sharp."

Kurt has a hard time visualizing the bottoms of his feet getting any more torn up than they already are, but he eventually gives in. Sebastian undeniably knows what he's doing, and it would suck if Kurt couldn't walk for the rest of their vacation. He can't picture Sebastian catering to a wounded Kurt, especially if he obtained his injuries due to his own stubbornness.

"Ugh," Kurt mewls when he puts his sock-clad foot down into a puddle of glop. "Couldn't we have just gone to the store?"

"Stop complaining, princess," Sebastian chides, but this time the nickname that Kurt has always detested sounds endearing. "It's not all that bad. Clams taste a lot better when you pull them out of the sand with you own hands. Besides…" Sebastian jumps down into the mud below with a wet slap as his feet hit the surface of the thick brown goop, "I have a feeling I'm going to really enjoy watching you do this."

Sebastian eyeballs Kurt with a mischievous grin, but Kurt, dubious at the prospect of tromping knee-deep in something that looks like toxic sludge, makes no move to join him.

"So, are you coming, Kurt? These clams aren't going to leap into our bucket on their own."

"I don't want to," Kurt says quietly, taking a step back, holding tight to the bucket handle with both hands.

"Kurt," Sebastian runs a sandy hand through his hair, apparently beyond caring what kind of wreck he looks like, (though he still manages, to Kurt's despair, to look like an exquisitely handsome mess regardless). "The stuff down here is the same stuff you're standing in up there."

"Yeah, but it's shallow up here," Kurt gripes. "Look! You're sinking up to your knees!"

Sebastian shakes his head, sparing a glance down at the mud that he is currently sinking into. He bends down and grabs a handful of mud, moving through the dense substance to get to where an obstinate Kurt stays attached to the safety of his ledge. He brings the handful of mud down on Kurt's legs, smoothing the gritty gunk over his skin.

"No! Sebastian!" Kurt yelps. He steps back quickly to get out of arm's reach and slips again, this time falling backwards, feet flying out from under him, and landing on his tailbone in a puddle, splashing his clothes and his skin. Sebastian's accompanying laugh only adds insult to injury as Kurt looks down his body with disgust.

"See," Sebastian chokes out, "now you don't have an excuse."

Kurt tosses the bucket blindly in Sebastian's direction and growls in aggravation when he hears it bypass Sebastian's head and land in the mud.

"Thanks, babe!" Sebastian chortles. "But I'm not starting till you get your ass down here."

Kurt feels his hackles start to rise. He wants to fume, the pull himself out of the mud and stomp back the way they came, not that he could figure out the route without Sebastian's help, unfortunately, but he can't, because even though Sebastian is laughing at him, it's that genuine, disarming laugh that Kurt is finding harder and harder to resist. And when he takes a moment to think about it, his predicament is kind of funny. If Sebastian were sitting in a puddle with his ass soaking up mud, Kurt would have a field day. Kurt hears a sickening sound like a spoon being dragged through old, coagulated oatmeal. He looks between his legs and sees Sebastian hoisting his body up onto the rock, an unexpected expression of concern on his face.

"Jesus, Kurt, are you okay? Did you hurt yourself? Can't you get up?" The barrage of questions catches Kurt unaware so he passes up on a golden opportunity to ham his injury up for all its worth.

"I'm fine," Kurt says, pushing off his elbows and letting Sebastian help him to his feet. "You don't have to be such a mother hen. I'm not a child, you know."

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't know it by the way you're acting," Sebastian bites. "It's just a little mud, Kurt. I'm trying to have some fun here. You remember what fun is?"

"Well, mud may be fun for you, pigs, and toddlers, but it's not exactly my cup of tea." Kurt runs his hands over his body in a fruitless attempt to sweep the drying crud off his clothes.

"Don't bother." Sebastian grabs Kurt's hand and drags him back to the edge. "If we're going to eat at all tonight, you're going to have to get a lot dirtier than that." This time, Sebastian holds on to Kurt's hand when he makes the leap off the ledge, bringing a protesting and cursing Kurt along with him for the ride. Sebastian lands flawlessly on his feet, but Kurt lands on his knees, sending generous huge droplets soaring all over, dousing his face, his hair, and his clothes, which he has long since lost hope of saving. With any luck, _Fall-Out Boy_ will perform in a venue Kurt can get to soon so he can replace Puck's shirt.

"Now feel around with your feet and find us some clams," Sebastian says, reclaiming the bucket from where he left it and shuffling away. Kurt struggles to stand upright with his legs stuck in slop.

"You have _got_ to be kidding," Kurt mumbles, but he decides to buck up and suffer through since the sooner he finds these stupid clams the sooner they'll climb out of this repugnant morass and head back to the house. He skates around trying to find mollusks with his feet – a situation Kurt Hummel would have never dreamed in a million years he would find himself in. He feels around in the sand and from the corner of his eye he sees Sebastian, arms outstretched for balance, a sentimental smile on his face. Kurt tries to imagine Sebastian out here on vacation with his family doing this exact same thing. He pictures Julian trying to wrestle Sebastian into the mud while Olivia screams for them to stop…or more than likely cheers them on, eager to side with the winner in making the loser's night miserable. Kurt chuckles to himself realizing he'll probably find out how true to life that scenario is when everyone else gets there.

He can hardly wait.

"Clam," Sebastian calls, and Kurt hears a loud clunk in the metal bucket. "Come on, Hummel. I've got three already and you've found nada. Stop daydreaming and help!"

Kurt scowls, but pads around with his feet in the soft ground in search of something hard. He hits one and bends down, glowering as he sinks his hands into the mud, grabbing the object and pulling it up, fighting with the sand that's hell bent on keeping this clam for itself. Kurt plucks it free, crying out in victory, clearing away the mud to look at his prize.

He frowns when he realizes what he's found instead.

"I have a rock," Kurt grumbles, tossing it aside.

"Clam," Sebastian calls in the meantime, sounding excessively pleased.

Kurt searches around and hits upon another hard object. He plunges ahead, grabbing and quickly yanking up the hard ovoid.

"I have a…nother rock."

"Clam!" Another metallic clank follows.

"Rock…"

"Clam!"

_Clunk._

"Rock!"

"Clam!"

_Clunk._

"ANOTHER MOTHERFUCKING ROCK!"

"Clam!"

Sebastian can barely get the word out as he walks over to the bucket, and snickering, drops his eighth clam in.

"What the hell!" Kurt turns, seeing Sebastian's smug face and tosses a handful of mud his way, which Sebastian doesn't dodge nearly quick enough. "When did I become Charlie Brown! I'm getting all the gall-darned rocks."

"Gall-darned?" Sebastian chuckles. "Really?"

"Just…help me with this! Please! So I don't go back to the house thinking I got covered in filth for nothing."

Sebastian sighs, his eyes still shimmering with tears from laughing so hard, but he takes pity on Kurt and decides to show him the finer points of digging for clams. Kurt watches Sebastian move around the mud, feeling with his feet in the dense muck. He stops in a spot and his eyebrows shoot up.

"Okay," Sebastian says, holding out his arms and beckoning for Kurt to join him. "Come here and feel this."

Kurt rolls his eyes and trudges over to join Sebastian, pressing the ground with his foot till he finds Sebastian's foot, and then feels for the hard object he is standing on.

"Do you feel that?" Sebastian asks.

Kurt nods.

"Can you feel the ridges and the ribs? How it's not completely smooth?"

Kurt nods again.

"Go ahead and dig that up."

Kurt bends over, his hip rubbing against Sebastian's legs as he reaches into the mud to find the hard lump they've been standing on. He misses the way Sebastian shifts, the way he groans softly, caring only about the first clam he has ever dug up. Kurt pulls the creature out and raises it triumphantly in the air, spattering them both with a spray of dirt.

"I got one!" he cheers.

"That…that's great, Kurt," Sebastian says, his voice sounding tight as he moves to a different area of the mud flat to go back to fishing out clams. "Now, get about twenty more of those, and we'll be ready to go."

"Twenty!" Kurt groans. "Ugh!"

"Yup," Sebastian says with a strange, eerie cheerfulness. "And I forgot to mention…the person who finds the least carries the bucket back to the house."

Kurt groans, complaining loudly as he lugs the bucket along the rocks, grasping the handle in both hands and hoisting it in front of him, using his body for support and leverage. He has to stop every half a minute or so to put it down, his hands stinging and red after only ten minutes.

Kurt never quite makes it to twenty. The tide comes in hard and fast, flushing the boys back up onto the rocks, but Kurt is proud of the ten or so he did manage to find, his competitive diva side trying not to acknowledge that Sebastian found nearly three times as many, if not more.

But the proof is in the pudding as Sebastian bounds ahead and Kurt flails behind, burdened by their dinner.

"What do we do with these guys now?" Kurt says, trying to distract himself from the weight and the pain with light-hearted conversation, flinching when the metal cuts into his skin. Sebastian turns around when he hears Kurt's question, and comes to a full stop when he sees him limping along. He sighs, walking back along the trail to reach him, putting a hand on his arm to stop him, and sets the bucket down. Sebastian takes off his socks, ringing out as much of the mud and water as he can. He takes Kurt's hand and wraps one sock around it, then does the same to his own hand.

"You get one side," Sebastian instructs, "I'll get the other. And try not to fall on your ass again and drop the bucket, please. I don't relish the idea of going back and digging for clams in the dark at high tide."

"So, you don't mind losing me at sea," Kurt says, finding it hard to be too upset when Sebastian is helping him without being asked, "but the clams…the clams we have to keep safe!?"

"Priorities, babe," Sebastian says with a wink, picking up his side of the bucket and pulling Kurt along in tow as he holds onto the other. "Right now I'm so hungry I'm pretty sure I can polish off this whole bucket by myself. Besides…you'd float."

"You still didn't answer my question," Kurt says, stumbling to keep up, focusing on shadowing Sebastian's footsteps on the rocks and not on the way the muscles of his arm bulges and shifts under the weight of the bucket. Kurt is amazed to see Sebastian like this; a hunter-gatherer, getting his hands dirty and doing this kind of manual labor, such a bizarre juxtaposition to the Sebastian Smythe who lives on a million dollar estate, who spent time abroad and attended an expensive private school. Kurt is finding this rough and rugged side a tremendous turn on, and not just because of the emphasis on Sebastian's physical beauty. There's something to be said about a man with money who doesn't just snap his fingers and make things appear.

There's no doubt in Kurt's mind that Sebastian could have called any number of stores or restaurants within a twenty mile radius and had something delivered, but digging for clams is about more than just dinner. It's about spending time together, about sharing a part of himself with Kurt…and to a degree, probably about getting Kurt filthy and making him look like an ass.

"When I was changing into my board shorts I took another look around…" Sebastian stops and readjusts, and Kurt takes the opportunity to do the same. "I found a box of pasta and a bottle of white wine, so I'm thinking we steam them, and serve them over spaghetti."

Kurt cannot help but be skeptical about Sebastian's ability to cook competently after the great French toast fiasco of just a few days ago, but it doesn't sound too complicated. His mouth salivates to the point of drooling at the sound of clams steamed in white wine, and he tries his best to walk faster.

They make it back to the beach house as the sun dips down below the horizon, lighting up the sky in a brilliant array of champagne pink and pale gold, the blue ocean darkening to nearly a solid indigo when Kurt turns to look at it again from one of the stalls of the outdoor showers. They wash off quickly to avoid trailing mud in the house, trying to ignore the way their shoulders bump together under the lukewarm water while they rinse the clams, though Kurt's eyes might linger a bit on the way Sebastian's tan skin contrasts against his own alabaster complexion beneath the spray. Maybe his breathing speeds up with the thought of Sebastian's hands running along his wet skin, his heart thrumming with the image of them sharing lazy kisses; gentle, leisurely, unrushed, spending all the time in the world lavishing attention on each other.

Kurt wishes he knew what it would take to convince Sebastian to join him in a shower. (Tomorrow, Kurt might learn to be careful what he wishes for.)

Kurt feels the night breeze prickle over his skin and only then becomes aware that the shower of water has stopped. His eyes drift up and he sees Sebastian staring down at him, his eyes hooded, bordering in the neighborhood of something breathless and raw, but now is not the time to explore it.

By the time they make it to the kitchen, Kurt doesn't feel like he's carrying a bucket filled with just clams, but the beach, the ocean, the sunset, an entire hive of bees pregnant with honey, and Sebastian – the smile that touches his eyes, his genuine laugh, and his kisses…so many awe-inspiring kisses.

"Geez, princess," Sebastian grunts the final few steps. "You must have gotten way too much sun. You look positively loopy." Sebastian pulls the bucket out of Kurt's hands and sets it on the kitchen island, and Kurt realizes he has a huge, goofy smile on his face. "Why don't you hop in a shower and I'll get this started."

"Are you sure?" Kurt asks, already heading for the bathroom. Sebastian shakes his head as he watches Kurt disappear down the hall.

"Don't…stop…come back…" Sebastian murmurs, smiling as he pulls down a large pot from the cabinet and fills it with water.

Kurt strips off the grimy clothes and sets them carefully over the tub, at this point wondering why he even bothers since they are positively ruined. He looks at his naked body in the mirror, scrunching his nose at the layer of gunge that still clings to him despite their quick rinse. His eyes fall on the various bottles of his skin care regimen lined up neatly on the sink beside bottles of product he assumes are Sebastian's. He smiles, walking his fingertips from bottle to bottle. It all seems so startling domestic that for a moment Kurt freezes, stupefied by the notion that so much of who they are can blend so seamlessly. Kurt intersperses the bottles, creating a pattern of his-mine-his-mine-his-mine until the perfectly sized row of Clinique-Neutrogena-Dior represent what Kurt is aiming for – us.

Kurt sets the temperature level to scalding in an effort to melt away the scum, kind of like dry cleaning without the Martinizing. He leans against the cool, powder blue tile and watches the remains of the day slide off his skin – dust, sand, and sweat pool in the water around his feet before spiraling down the drain. He scrubs his skin twice to get rid of the mud and glares at the presence of a few new freckles he's seemed to inherit along the way, hoping that his precious miracle serum from the Dior Snow line will take care of them for him.

Kurt stays in the shower longer than he plans, inspecting every inch of his skin obsessively for residual mud, sand, and God knows whatever else might have been lurking in the quagmire they trekked knee deep in. When he finally gets out and dries off, he notices that a couple of the bottles on the sink have gone missing and his knees go weak at the thought of Sebastian stepping into the bathroom while he was showering to retrieve them.

He returns to the kitchen, half-expecting to see every pot, pan, and plate stacked in the sink, with the addition of some food item scorched beyond repair, pasta hanging from the ceiling, and the poor clams trying their best at making a break for freedom. Instead, Sebastian is adeptly plating their food, his hair wet, skin attractively flushed, wearing a similar white t-shirt and cotton sleep pants as they both wore the night before. Sebastian doesn't look up when Kurt enters the room, but smirks as he goes about his work.

"I hijacked another bathroom," Sebastian explains. "You took so long I was afraid you might have drowned, so I thought I'd give you another ten minutes."

Kurt shakes his head and laughs.

"Thanks for your concern."

Kurt hops up onto a bar stool and watches Sebastian pour a thin sauce from a pan over a plate of pasta piled high with opened clams.

"I have to admit I'm impressed," Kurt concedes. "After your disastrous attempt at making breakfast, I thought for sure this might be out of your depth."

"I've never had to make anyone breakfast before," Sebastian says, and Kurt's not sure why, but the comment grips a hold of his heart and twists. He knows he's going to have to put any jealousy over Sebastian's past conquests behind him if they're going to forage ahead, but he didn't expect any jokes about that now, not when they were here alone together.

"So, does that mean you've made _dinner_ for somebody then?" Kurt asks. He means it as an answering taunt, but it comes out bitter and defensive.

Sebastian's eyes are soft when they lift from the plate to look at him.

"Never," he says, and it sounds reassuring and unerringly honest, so Kurt shelves his jealousy, reaching out to take the plate that Sebastian offers him.

"Come on." Sebastian hands Kurt a bottle of water that he brought in from the trunk of the Mustang and a set of silverware, and carrying his own dinner plate and bottle of water, leads them into the living room. There's a flat screen t.v. mounted to the wall, but the boys opt instead to sit in front of the picture windows with the lights turned low, watching the tide crash into the shore while they eat their dinner cross-legged on the floor, a selection from Rachmaninoff playing on a compact Bose stereo sitting in the corner, the music filling the room from tiny speakers stationed in different areas so that the sound comes at them from all around.

Kurt twirls his spaghetti delicately, conscious that even though Sebastian is making an effort to look disinterested and nonplussed that he's watching Kurt, waiting to see his reaction. The first bite touches Kurt's tongue and the flavors that fill his mouth are intense, fresh and sublime, somehow seeming to form a single taste that sums up their entire day. The dry white wine manages to hold on to its subtle sweetness beneath the salty tang of the clams that remind him heart and soul of his morning at the beach. It's not just something for his taste buds to savor; it's an honest to God emotion. Kurt decides then and there that he is going to hold on to Sebastian with both hands for as long as humanly possible since he has no intention of eating anything but this one dish for the rest of his life, even if it requires hours of combing through a bog every day at sunrise and sunset.

The sacrifice to Puck's wardrobe might just be worth it.

Kurt closes his eyes to relish every bite, every slide of the pasta around his mouth, the last traces of alcohol firing along his tongue, the satisfying combination of flavors unveiled when the flesh of the clams explodes between his teeth. He sighs, opening his eyes, and sees Sebastian staring at him, his lips parted, his expression hungry, but possibly, Kurt would like to believe, for a much different reason than want of food.

"This actually borders on something close to romantic," Kurt says, daintily twirling more spaghetti around his fork.

"Hey, now," Sebastian says, mimicking offense. "You don't know me, Kurt, alright. I'm romantic as fuck."

Kurt laughs, bringing the pasta and seafood to his lips and taking a bite, chewing deliberately to give himself time to think. Kurt swallows and takes a sip of his water before he continues.

"You're kind of right, though," Kurt says, moving what's left of his food in a path around his plate. "I don't really know much about you, do I?"

Sebastian's expression drops a bit, shifting to melancholy, and he shrugs.

"If that's important to you…"

"It is," Kurt interrupts, matching Sebastian's look with one of his own, full of questions he wants to ask and misgivings that he wants to clear up, but mostly a confirmation that without a shadow of a doubt he is right where he wants to be.

"Okay." Sebastian nods, looking conflicted, but he pushes it aside, standing and extending a hand to Kurt to help him up.

"Leave the plates," he says. "We'll get to them in the morning."

Kurt is sure Charlotte wouldn't approve of them leaving dirty plates on the living room floor to get dried out and crusty, but he decides not to mention it, seeing as they are headed to bed, and Sebastian is leading the way.

They separate to brush their teeth because no matter what Kurt will most likely never feel comfortable doing that in front of anyone. Preparing for bed in what he has affectionately labeled 'the blue room', Kurt's sense of déjà vu switches into overdrive, except this time he's even more nervous than he had been the night before. He doesn't know why but he is starting to get the feeling that in this arena, where Sebastian should conceivably be able to take the lead, he seems more content to follow – for now at least, which puts Kurt in the position to lay out the boundaries.

Sebastian wants to take things slow, which gets harder now that all Kurt seems to want to do is speed things along.

They're going to need to agree on a middle-ground.

Kissing? Yes.

Touching? Uh…somewhat…

Rutting? Still up in the air.

Kurt runs is hands through his hair and looks at himself in the mirror.

_'Just relax,'_ he tells himself, _'and let whatever happens happen.'_

About eighteen more self-help slogans later, Kurt walks to the bedroom and finds Sebastian standing right where he was last night, in front of the windows looking out at the ocean, body still rigid, expression still unsure, and more than anything Kurt wants to find the key to breaking through that tension. This time when he shuts the door and Sebastian turns to look at him, Kurt runs headlong and leaps into the bed, sinking into the mattress and letting it bounce him back, the comforter wrapping around him end over end like a burrito.

"So, mud is for toddlers, but bouncing on the bed is perfectly acceptable adult behavior?" Sebastian's voice has an edge of uneasiness, but Kurt's stunt has the desired effect. He's laughing and climbing into bed, grappling to get Kurt unwound from the blanket.

"Yup," Kurt confirms, "because unlike mud, jumping on the bed won't ruin my clothes."

"Believe what you want to, babe," and there he is. The suave, over-confident king of innuendo is back, and the atmosphere loosens up around them. Kurt rolls the comforter flat and climbs underneath on his side, while Sebastian crawls in on the other.

Sebastian lies on his back and stares at the ceiling, and Kurt lies on his side and watches him. In the silvery light of the waxing moon bathing the room, Kurt can see contemplation flicking through his thoughtful green eyes.

"What are you thinking?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian turns his head to face Kurt, looking almost surprised by the question.

"I was thinking…I don't remember the last time…" Sebastian sighs with frustration, as if nothing he can think of to say is good enough. "I've never spent a day like that with someone before. I liked it."

Kurt bites his lip and nods, a strange sensation of pride flourishing within him that he doesn't feel right to owning up to out loud.

"What are _you_ thinking?" Sebastian reciprocates with a sly smile, and Kurt decides that this moment, this peaceful, laid back, light-hearted moment is as good as any to make his move.

"I was thinking that I'd like to touch you," Kurt says, and Sebastian's smile morphs from his usually smug façade to sincerely dumbstruck. "Actually, I've been kind of thinking about it all day."

Kurt doesn't give Sebastian time to object or himself a reason to second-guess. He reaches across the invisible boundary that seems to divide them, grabs a handful of Sebastian's shirt below the collar, and tugs towards him lightly. Sebastian follows, rolling onto his side and then getting up on his hands and knees. Kurt shifts to move beneath him, putting Sebastian in a better position to hover over his body.

Kurt watches all the conflicting emotions play over Sebastian's face as their eyes meet, and it seems logical that every step from here on out should be natural.

"Do you want to kiss me?" Kurt asks, curious where all this confidence is coming from all of a sudden; excessively glad that it doesn't have to come from a bottle.

Sebastian tilts his head, eyes focusing on Kurt's mouth more than his eyes.

"Pretty much all the time," he whispers.

"Then why don't you do it more?"

Kurt means it as a friendly jab, not even a serious question. He doesn't really want an answer; it's simply a way to let Sebastian know that he has permission, blanket permission, to lay claim to Kurt's lips whenever and wherever he wants. But it stops Sebastian in his tracks, and he pulls away a bit.

Kurt watches Sebastian fluster, stumble over ideas and thoughts, trying to pinpoint just the right one, and suddenly Kurt is charmed all over again. This brilliant boy who loves books, who reads and digests and savors each one, can borrow any number of words, select from a bevy of quotes and expressions to fit his current emotion, and if he did, Kurt knows he would most definitely swoon. He considers telling Sebastian that, but he can't, because Kurt can tell from the slightly pained look on Sebastian's face that the words he's struggling over are his own; he has ownership of the ideas he longs to express. Kurt can't take that away from him. He'll sit patiently and wait.

"I like that I get to touch you," Kurt confesses, intervening, relieving Sebastian of the burden to come up with an answer to his rhetorical question.

"I like you touching me," Sebastian says through a shy smile.

Kurt slips his hands beneath Sebastian's shirt, running them up his back, fingers dancing along his spine, and Sebastian starts to uncoil. Kurt can feel it; tendrils of apprehension siphoning away beneath his fingertips. Sebastian's eyelids close as he absorbs Kurt's touch, sinking down slowly to get closer to Kurt's body, until he's supporting his weight on his elbows, resting his forehead against Kurt's, rubbing his nose gently against Kurt's, lips barely brushing.

Kurt's hands follow Sebastian's spine back down to his hips and in a fluid motion that begs no permission, slips beneath the waistband of his pants to palm boldly over the smooth skin of his ass.

"Oh, Kurt," he sighs in a single, broken breath that fills Kurt with an overwhelming desire to hear more of it. He reaches further, fingertips brushing the backs of Sebastian's thighs. Sebastian drops his head down the short distance and kisses him, and the hunger from earlier, from all the times Kurt caught Sebastian watching him, resurfaces. It's possessive, unrestrained, spurred on by the brazen journey of Kurt's hands as they close in around Sebastian's hips and pull his body down further so that Sebastian can feel him, feel the way he reacts to Sebastian's body. Kurt's hands fit into the sway of Sebastian's back, in that curve where his hips join the swell of his ass, and he pins Sebastian against him, rolling his hips up to meet him.

Kurt shoves Sebastian's shirt up as his hands continue to move, leaving it to pool around his shoulders, but Sebastian reaches a hand up and tugs it off swiftly, tossing it blindly to the side, letting it land somewhere on the floor. Kurt's eyes are ravenous as they sweep over Sebastian's exposed chest, so close that he can kiss him, taste him at his leisure, and he does, leaning up to trace patterns around his nipple with his tongue, kissing across his clavicle, nipping along it with his teeth.

"Is this okay?" Kurt whispers against his skin, knowing he's already taken this farther than he thought he would tonight.

"More than okay," Sebastian whimpers.

Sebastian nuzzles against Kurt's neck, pushing him lightly back onto the bed, and latches onto a spot at the juncture between Kurt's shoulder and his neck, sucking with gentle brushes of his tongue throughout. Kurt moans, wrapping his arms around Sebastian's waist and this time Sebastian collapses against him.

"Oh, Bas." Kurt's voice trembles beyond his ability to control it, and Sebastian sucks harder in response.

Kurt releases Sebastian to fight with his own t-shirt, hating that Sebastian's decadent skin is pressed against him but he can't feel it. He tugs up sharply, and Sebastian lifts off him to help, pulling it over his head and tossing it in the same direction as his own.

Sebastian's body pressing him into the mattress, feeling him skin to skin, hips rolling down to meet his, gives a whole new definition to the word 'hot'. Kurt is engulfed by Sebastian's heat. It radiates off him in waves, everywhere they touch, every place his lips caress, every murmur against Kurt's neck. It's a scorch; a brand. It leaves Kurt with one crystal-clear message that he repeats over and over until he has no choice but to follow the rhythm of it with his whole body.

_I call him mine._

Sebastian's fingers toy with the waistband of his pants, fingertips running along the elastic on the inside, sending shivers shooting over his skin, sparking across every nerve ending. Kurt puts his hand over Sebastian's, ready to take the lead, guiding him beneath the soft fabric. Kurt holds his breath, waiting to see what Sebastian will do with this new freedom. In an instant, a tremendous surge of blood abandons his head in favor of southern locales, and that's when it hits him; an equally immense rush of exhaustion slamming into him, impossible to ignore.

Kurt grinds his teeth beneath Sebastian's kisses, wrestling to keep the yawning at bay. His eyelids stay closed longer every time they flutter shut, getting heavier and heavier as the weight of the long day pushes down on him, forcing his mind to meander away.

"Kurt?" He hears Sebastian's voice through the cloak of sleep, weaving through the gaps and holes that close up tight as soon as they appear, and with his mind he grabs for the sound, desperate to let it lead him back to the beach house and the bedroom where Sebastian's lips, his caresses, his whole body waits for him.

Kurt feels his lips move; a voice he scarcely recognizes mumbles nonsense words, unintelligible, and Sebastian laughs. Warm lips press against his forehead, and the tremendous heat that had him trapped to the bed lifts like a mist and floats away.

In his head, with what little stream of consciousness he has hanging on with both hands, Kurt screams in an effort to wake himself up.

_'No, Kurt! Not now! Don't you dar…'_


	4. ACITW AU CH24A

_"If I never get around to saying it, thank you for coming here with me…"_

A whisper. Barely a sound. Kurt doesn't even know if it's real, but he holds onto it, lets it play over and over again in his mind. It tickles his ear, dances around his head, and he wants to follow it, but he is quite literally dead to the world. Kurt's eyelids refuse to open. His body won't move. He tries and tries to command his limbs to do anything, but only succeeds in giving himself one whopping bruiser of a headache. All around him he senses the world opening up slowly and trying its hardest to lead him along with it. First, that soft voice in his ears. Then, a slight tingle against his cheek, spreading out from the point of touch and branching like vines over his skin, crackling as it leaps from synapse to synapse. Finally, his conscious brain comes fully alive, ready and willing to start the day. His mind is completely awake; now he needs his body to follow suit.

This is the kind of sleep Kurt hates. The kind you have to fight tooth and nail to be free of.

Luckily it doesn't last all too long, fragmenting here and there with the wiggle of a toe or the twitch of a finger. He flares his nostrils and purses his lips; sucking cool, refreshing air into his hot, sticky mouth. He can taste his own tongue; a thick, heavy lump nestled between his teeth and his inside cheek, and he cringes with disgust.

His joints are stiff and his muscles sore as he starts to bend his knees and elbows, groaning into the oddly quiet room around him. He manages to persuade heavy eyelids to peel open, and struggles to see past goo and gunk and other less attractive remnants of sleep. His heart sinks like a stone; simply breaks free of its muscles and tendons, and jettisons itself straight into the churning acid of Kurt's stomach when he discovers that _he_ is the one waking up to an empty bed this time. His head darts quickly around as protesting vertebrae snap, as if the boy he's looking for might not have gone missing. He might just be misplaced, hanging out by the windows watching the waves, or washing up in the bathroom. Kurt strains to listen beyond the room, out into the rest of the house. The only noise he can make out above the rolling of the waves on the beach below is a vague and distant mechanical hum somewhere nearby; but other than that there's nothing.

Sebastian is gone.

Kurt runs an exasperated hand through his mangled bed hair. He has a daunting flashback of the last time Sebastian ditched him before he woke up, when Julian told him that sometimes Sebastian needs to be alone to work through his issues and figure things out. That time Kurt didn't hear from Sebastian for days. Kurt has sort of made peace with that aspect of Sebastian's personality. He isn't trying to change him; but it was one thing when they were home in Ohio. Out here in North Carolina…

Where did he go? When would he be back?

"Great, Kurt," Kurt chides himself. "Good going. You couldn't just stay awake for…what…twenty minutes? An hour? You had to fucking fall asleep!"

Kurt could only imagine what a blow to his ego it would be if someone fell asleep on him after trying so hard to seduce him, to convince him that he wanted to move on, to go to the next level. Kurt fumbles around behind him for his pillow, needing something to scream out his frustration into. When he slams his hand down onto the bed, it comes in contact with something cool and smooth; something that doesn't feel like the soft cotton sheets. He lifts his hand and the foreign object flutters down onto the mattress.

It's a folded piece of white, lined, legal paper with his name written on it. He unfolds it and scans it over once, his nose scrunching.

How did he not notice that Sebastian has the handwriting of a serial killer?

_'See, this is how you do it, Hummel. If you're going to leave the house before someone else wakes up, you find a piece of paper (this one is from a pad in the kitchen, btw) and a pen (in the kitchen, too) and you write a note. This way people don't think you've run off. Please remember for next time._

_Sebastian_

_P. S. I went to the store. Be back soon.'_

Kurt rolls his eyes at the irony.

"Hypocrite," Kurt murmurs with a goofy smile on his lips, his entire aching body awash with relief. Kurt reads through the letter again, and then puts it underneath his pillow. (He'll need to explain that one to himself later, but now is not the time.)

Kurt stretches out on the bed, much more at ease with the state of his relationship, wincing as he hears joints pop and unidentified bones crack. He rolls over onto Sebastian's side and hugs the boy's pillow, breathing in deep to catch the faintest hint of shampoo that lingers there. When he realizes what he's doing, he groans. He's gone from teenage boy to thirteen-year-old girl in the space of about twenty-four hours.

But now he's stuck with the task of what to do until Sebastian returns since there's no way he's going back to sleep. That swing out on the balcony is forever calling to him, and his romantic sensibilities are dying to answer that siren call, but the moment would be _absolument parfait_ with a steaming hot mug of fresh coffee, and Kurt knows there isn't a single bean in the house. He stares at the swing, inches his body towards it a hair, but after some silent debating he decides to put that daydream on hold just a bit longer.

A random blast of water manages to reach the windows from the churning waves below, striking the glass and leaving a grainy residue of dark brown sand. Kurt stares at the clods with a tiny wrinkle of his brow. The view from the huge windows is intensely gorgeous. He's never been in the presence of something so life-affirming (except, perhaps, Patti LuPone's memoir, of which he recently concluded his fifth read), but it would drive him completely bonkers to live in a place 24/7 where cleaning the windows did absolutely no good. No matter what, they would always be streaked with salt crust and grime.

Suddenly, he is struck by the memory of the deplorable mess of ruined clothes that he left in the bathroom last night. He launches himself off the bed, grumbling as he goes to retrieve them.

"Great. Just great. You fall asleep while making-out, you leave filthy clothes lying around. What an amazing houseguest-slash-sort-of-kinda-boyfriend you're turning out to be."

Though tidying up around the house isn't really a bad idea. If he remembers correctly, there is still the matter of some grungy dishes on the living room floor, waiting to be chiseled clean. He reaches the bathroom, pushing the shower curtain aside to grab at what must be by now stiff, wrecked clothes, but they're suspiciously absent. Then the mechanical hum starts to make sense. All along he's been hearing a washing machine running. It didn't dawn on him right away because the gentle murmur of this particular machine sounds much different that the hulking _Kenmore_ washing machine Carole bought for their house when they all moved in together.

Kurt follows the sound of the machine to the mud room to check on its progress. Kurt has to give Sebastian an A+ for effort, but Kurt is pretty sure that nothing short of an exorcism is going to be able to revive Puck's ruined clothes. Kurt stops short when he sees the matching ruby colored _GE_ frontload washer and dryer (probably considered the Cadillac of laundry machines) lined up neatly side by side against the mudroom wall. He's pretty sure this model has a steam clean setting. He leans forward just to be sure. Yup, they have a steam clean setting. Of course they do.

Well, there's that then.

Kurt stares at the machines as the clothes percolate on their individual racks, and a warm spot blooms in his chest. Sebastian Smythe, Lothario extraordinaire, did Kurt's laundry. Not because he had to. Not because Kurt asked him to. But he did it anyway. Of course, maybe Sebastian didn't want to leave his inconsiderate houseguest's messy clothes lying around the bathroom all day long, but Kurt would much prefer to leave that option out of the equation.

With that out of the way, Kurt moves on to the matter of the dishes, but when he reaches the living room they're gone as well, and Kurt can't help but wonder when exactly _did_ Sebastian wake up since he definitely walked more and did way more digging than Kurt did last night, and Kurt felt like he had been run over by an eighteen-wheeler this morning. On top of that, the clock on the wall reads barely 8:30. Kurt has no idea when Sebastian left or what time he can expect him back, but he's eager for him to return, even though he knows Sebastian probably has one hell of a ribbing in store for him. Kurt can imagine Sebastian mentally gearing up his forces and gathering ammunition as he picks through produce. Kurt doesn't care. He doesn't quite feel right being in this big beautiful house without Sebastian in it.

The house is beyond incredible with a view to die for…but Sebastian is the reason Kurt enjoys staying there.

Kurt heads back to the bedroom to send Sebastian a text message, and then take advantage of this time alone to indulge in a little frivolous social media. He fishes out his laptop from the pyramid of luggage and fires it up, grabbing at the same time for his phone. The moment he unlocks his screen he is assaulted by forty new text messages – thirty-nine from Rachel and one from his dad:

To Kurt (Monday 1:15 p.m.)

Still haven't heard from you yet that you're safe. Please let me know when you can. Love ya, kiddo.

_This _message he answers immediately.

To Dad (8:39 a.m.)

Sorry I missed your text and sorry I didn't call to let you know I was safe. I'm having a fabulous time! Thanks for understanding how much I needed this. Love you, too.

He re-reads his message once more before hitting send, smiling at how easily he can admit that despite all the bumps and strange twists they had encountered on their first day in North Carolina, he could without a doubt chalk it up as one of the best days he has had in a long time.

He looks at the remaining mountain of messages and sighs, but he can't say he's necessarily surprised. Finn probably called Rachel the second he woke up on Sunday, which pretty much corresponded with the time of the first incoming message.

To Kurt (Sunday 11:16 a.m.)

Didn't we talk about this?

To Kurt (Sunday 11:18 a.m.)

A fling over the summer is one thing, but the two of you alone on vacation!?

To Kurt (Sunday 11:22 a.m.)

Remember your _soulmate_?

To Kurt (Sunday 11:25 a.m.)

I think we need to stage an intervention. Skype me ASAP!

Kurt swallows hard, eyes stuck on that word 'we', wondering who 'we' might actually mean. 'We' as in he and Rachel (otherwise known as 'the royal _we_'); or 'we' as in he, Rachel, and a couple of other Glee clubbers she finagled getting a hold of? If she did succeed in tracking people down, what would his Facebook wall look like?

Suddenly the thought of 'frivolous social media' doesn't seem quite so relaxing.

Kurt continues to scroll down, and from then on the messages get progressively more demanding, some of them surprisingly insulting, and he's half tempted to erase them altogether, completely unread, except that hidden amongst this pulp might be the rare Rachel Berry apology, an elusive creature long sought but not often seen. Deep down he knows Rachel loves him; he knows that her sometimes unintentionally offensive comments come from a place of caring. Hadn't they worked so hard to get to the friendship they have now? Didn't they have similar drives and ambitions that at first drove them apart, but in the end pulled them together? He knew from the get-go that being friends with Rachel meant dealing with 'Rachel Berry – Diva' as well as 'Rachel Berry – Mother Hen'. But lately he is getting sick of tolerating her personal agenda and her lofty ideals. Blaine fit those ideals because he seemed so fucking shiny, like a bright new penny, unspoiled and unspent. (Yeah…look at how well _that_ turned out.) In fact, some days Kurt could honestly believe that those two were actually twins, separated at birth.

Which would probably explain why it is so easy to be angry with her right now.

So maybe Sebastian didn't fit her perfect idea of a boyfriend, or the future…or whatever. Maybe his armor isn't quite as shiny; maybe it's a little dented. That didn't make him any less worthy of respect or consideration than Blaine.

Rachel Berry would have to get over herself, but seeing as that isn't going to happen today, Kurt moves to a different screen and composes a message.

To Sebastian (8:57 a.m.)

Thank you for the note. Message well received. Any idea on an ETA? BTW, you could have just texted me, you know.

It astounds Kurt that he managed to miss this sheer number of invasions into his privacy until he gets a return text from Sebastian that sheds some light as to how he did.

To Kurt (8:59 a.m.)

I didn't want to risk it. I didn't see you with your phone all day yesterday. ETA – I'll be there when I fucking get there…maybe sooner. Keep your panties on.

After reading Sebastian's text, Kurt's first instinct is to bitch back, "Shows what you know. I never go anywhere without my phone"; but then he realizes that Sebastian is right. He didn't have his phone on him yesterday; not at the bee farm, and he definitely didn't take it on their little mollusk hunt. No, yesterday his sole focus was sun and fun and Sebastian, and damn it, that's what this vacation is going to be.

Kurt Hummel – unplugged.

He shuts his laptop down and puts it back in its case, shoving it as defiantly as he can while still being really gentle with it beneath the rest of the luggage, determined not to lay eyes on it again for the rest of his stay at the beach house. A yawn sneaks up on him, and he stretches his arms out while it rolls through his body, listening to his knees and elbows pop and crack all over again. He massages his shoulders with achy, uncooperative fingers, but then finally gives up, wondering if he would be able to conjure up a way to bribe Sebastian into giving him a massage if he was there.

_'Probably not after last night.'_

It's an evil voice in his head that sounds viciously like Sebastian, and it makes him want to sob; roll around on the floor like a two-year-old throwing a tantrum and weep absurdly until all the humiliation and torment purge from his system. He stares at the floor and considers it, rolling his shoulders around in their sockets. The relentless surf pounds outside, much more softly now that the tide has gone out, and he gets a more mature, more feasible, much more inspired idea. He sheds only his pajama pants and changes quickly into a pair of sweats (this time his own castoffs from his short-lived career on the McKinley High football team as placekicker), and throws on the hoodie he has permanently purloined. He returns to the bathroom to grab a towel and stops for a moment to sort out the issue of his dangerously disgusting morning mouth with a huge dollop of toothpaste and several quick swipes of his toothbrush, chasing that with a capful of Sebastian's nightmare-inducing mouthwash. Without bothering to slip on a pair of shoes (which makes him feel like such a local) he heads down to the beach, making sure to stop by the kitchen for a bottle of water as well as the fabled pad of paper and pen from Sebastian's note. He finds it sitting on the counter where it had escaped his notice before, pen by its side, with another message scribbled on the top sheet –

_Kurt,_

_This is it._

_Sebastian_

Kurt rips off the note, folding it in half and sticking it in his pocket, then jots down a brief note of his own.

_Sebastian_

_At the beach._

_Kurt_

* * *

Kurt lays out the towel on the sand, and with painstaking care smooths out the wrinkles, breathing in deep lungfuls of salty ocean air, trying to focus his mindset and clear his head. He can certainly appreciate the rejuvenating powers of a seaside vacation. It's all so Austen-esque, harkening back to a simpler time when a holiday by the sea was the preferred method of treatment for everything from depression to dysentery.

Of course Kurt can also appreciate the benefits of soap and penicillin, but the odes written about those things aren't quite as poetic.

He faces the water in the mountain pose, inhaling until every atom of his being is comfortably full of clean, fresh, new oxygen; and he begins sun salutations, sliding effortlessly from one yoga position into the next with the ebb and flow of the water as his guide. He extends the pathways of his mind in search of his place of peace, reaching out beyond the confines of what is merely his physical body to divine his own personal rode to serenity and tranquility; which the calm, soothing ocean should be able to provide, but leaving his earthly tethers behind proves harder than it should be.

He should have thought of doing yoga _before_ he checked his text messages.

He takes another cleansing breath, and holds it, balancing in plank position, trying to not let his mind wander back to some of the more unfair and, frankly, unladylike things Rachel texted.

_'Kurt, don't you think you're being a little selfish and immature?'_

_'Kurt, I thought I explained to you how the revenge thing doesn't actually work.'_

_'Kurt, I've never seen someone run so quickly in the direction of inevitable heartbreak.'_

_'Kurt, JBI says he saw Sebastian selling weed to Stoner Brett. Are you dating a drug dealer?'_

He almost loses his footing as he crawls backward and creeps forward into cobra pose, nearly forgetting to breathe altogether.

Maybe he needs a better guide than the ocean.

As he shifts into his second dog pose, a familiar voice, one he can't believe how much he's missed all morning, hums appreciatively from across the sand.

"When you texted me, I didn't know you were planning to put on a show."

Kurt's first instinct is to bolt up from his blanket and into Sebastian's arms, but regardless of the burden he carries on his shoulders, he shows some restraint. He pointedly tsks Sebastian, stretching his tailbone farther up into the downward facing dog position to better show off his…assets.

"Seriously," Sebastian says, and Kurt latches on to how Sebastian stutters on the first 's', "you should have given me a schedule. I would have been back sooner."

Kurt contemplates continuing the rest of the cycle, but as he transitions into a lunge and Sebastian wolf-whistles, Kurt abandons his yoga for the day, knowing there will be no finding nirvana with Sebastian there to distract him. At least, no finding it out on the beach.

Then again, it is a _private_ beach.

Kurt stands, reaching for his water bottle, cracking the lid and taking a sip.

"No, no, no! You're not done," Sebastian says with a teasing tone of mock panic. "Please say you're not done."

Kurt takes a few more sips from his bottle, preening at the thought that Sebastian would want to spend the rest of the morning watching Kurt bend over and stretch out in the sand. Maybe he can convince Sebastian to join him.

"Ugh, you are such a teenaged boy," Kurt says, capping his half-full bottle and dropping it back on his towel in the sand.

"Thank goodness," Sebastian says with a dramatic roll of his head on his shoulders. "I was beginning to think I was a pariah."

And so swiftly, without a proper hello, Sebastian goes for the jugular.

Kurt had almost been able to forget. He drops his head into his hands and groans, loud and long and wounded.

"Am I going to find you out here every morning?" Sebastian says, putting off the inevitable round of teasing for just a while longer.

"Yup," Kurt replies, uncovering his reddening face slowly, dragging the pads of his fingers down his temples to his cheeks. "My time out here is a gift. I'm determined not to take it for granted."

Kurt turns as if prompted by some invisible cue in time to see two curiously strong waves collide at the point of a nearby rock, threatening to drench him. Sebastian grabs Kurt indignantly by the waistband of his sweats and tugs him back away from the rush of water, which barely touches the edge of the towel, darkening a strip of the fabric.

"Never turn your back on the ocean," Sebastian chuckles. He wraps his arms around Kurt's body in a way that tells Kurt that Sebastian may have actually missed him, too. Kurt feels it in the strength of his embrace, the stroke of Sebastian's hands up and down Kurt's arms as if despite the thick hoodie Kurt might still be cold. Kurt relaxes into it, absorbs it, even through the thick fibers of the clothes he's wearing. Sebastian's warmth seeps into Kurt's body and Kurt finds the peace he was searching so hard for.

"Well, next summer…"

Sebastian's words cut off abruptly, and Kurt doesn't need to turn and look to know the expression on Sebastian's face. It's the same as his own, of someone who has so quickly become accustomed to something that might not last till next summer.

_"If I never get around to saying it, thank you for coming here with me…"_

Kurt pauses to think about those words he has been holding onto so tightly.

"Have I thanked you yet?" Kurt says, not turning his head to make sure Sebastian hears him. He just knows that he does.

"You mean, between yelling about the bees and bitching about crawling through the mud?" Sebastian says, squeezing Kurt tighter. "Then, no."

"Well, then I wanted to officially thank you…" Kurt takes Sebastian's hand from where it's running a path up and down his arm, cradling it in both of his own, and then bending to kiss the back of it gently. There's something in the way that Sebastian goes still behind him that Kurt does not expect, like he's waiting to see what Kurt will do next. What Kurt _does_ is turn in his arms, because for the next thing he plans to say, he wants Sebastian to see the sincerity in his eyes.

"I also want to apologize."

Sebastian doesn't respond right away, but then sways back comically, pulling Kurt with him.

"Wow." Sebastian laughs and looks up to the sky, as if an explanation waits there for him among the dissipating wisps of stringy white clouds. "A thank you and an apology all in one day? And it's not even noon. I should circle this day in red on my calendar."

Kurt tugs Sebastian closer, uncomfortable at being mocked when he's trying so hard to be serious.

"Please, don't…can you just…"

"And what huge grievance are you apologizing for? Hmm?" Sebastian kids. "I haven't been gone _that_ long."

Sebastian catches Kurt's chin between his thumb and his index finger, tipping it up so that he can peer directly into Kurt's clear blue eyes.

If there was ever a time where Kurt feels put on the spot, now would definitely be that time.

"About last night…" Kurt starts, but Sebastian leans in quickly and kisses him. The speed and the ferocity of the kiss knock Kurt back, and if Sebastian hadn't been holding him, he might have stumbled off into the sand.

The kiss doesn't last long unfortunately, but it is positively potent. Kurt knows his cheeks are so hot they are close to bursting into flames.

If there's one thing that Sebastian Smythe knows (out of the apparent ton of things that Sebastian Smythe knows) it's how to deliver a kiss.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says smugly, having the gall to not even look affected by that kiss, "was there something you wanted to say?"

Kurt glares at Sebastian with the spark of a glowing ember in his eyes and a perplexed smile on his lips. He opens his mouth but then closes it again when he sees Sebastian's gaze focus on the movement.

"I wanted to apologize for mmrph…"

Sebastian's lips claim his again, swallowing Kurt's rushed second attempt at an apology. His hand moves from Kurt's arm to his neck, massaging and kneading in the way Kurt loves so much, Sebastian's fingers alleviating Kurt's stress with the warmth of his caress.

Sebastian pulls away from a muddled Kurt, who wastes no time springing into another apology.

"Iwantedtoapologizeforlastmmph…"

Kurt laughs into Sebastian's mouth when he kisses him, this time threading his fingers into Kurt's hair to keep their mouths locked together, his tongue sweeping smoothly along the contours of Kurt's lips, stopping his laughter dead in his throat. Kurt gives up – gives up apologizing and gives up resisting. Gives up being sorry for things he can't control or avoid or change. When Sebastian breaks their kiss for this third and final time, he looks deep into Kurt's eyes in a poignant and serious way that makes Kurt's heart stutter strangely in his chest, like the erratic fluttering of a wounded bird.

"Are you trying to apologize to me for not staying awake long enough for me to feel you up?"

It sounds kind of crass and gross, but also brutally to-the-point, and Kurt finds that even though that was exactly what he was doing, he doesn't have an answer for Sebastian.

"I g-guess...I kind of was…"

Sebastian's usual smirk turns into a slight frown.

"Who in the fucking hell ever told you _that_ was something you needed to apologize for?"

Kurt thinks…really, really thinks about an answer. Who did tell him he should feel sorry for not always being ready, willing, and available? Movies, commercials, magazine ads, some of his favorite romance novels… Once he starts the list, he almost can't stop. The funny part is he didn't even realize it was happening; that some small part of his subconscious was being programmed with this message, and even though the message wasn't his to begin with, he feels ashamed for carrying it.

Sebastian sighs and holds him tight, kissing him one last time but on the forehead.

"Come on," Sebastian says, dipping Kurt low with one arm and reaching out with the other to pick up the towel and shake out the sand. Kurt holds tight to Sebastian's arm and laughs at the gesture, flattered by the idea that Sebastian would rather dip him like in the dreaded waltz than to let him go. _Maybe that dance class should have been held on the beach instead of in a stuffy community center_, Kurt muses, though Kurt is confident that a change of heart and not a change in locales is the catalyst that improved the way they move together.

"Teach me how to make French toast," Sebastian commands as his way of asking, dragging Kurt back up to the house. "I like the idea of learning how to make you breakfast."

How to make _you_ breakfast.

Not 'how to make breakfast'. Not 'how to make _someone _breakfast'.

How to make _you_ breakfast.

Kurt feels light. He feels giddy. He feels so light and giddy that he lets himself be dragged along now that he has a little something more to hold on to.


	5. ACITW AU CH24B

An enigma. That's the only way Kurt can think to describe this particular phenomenon; a riddle for future philosophers to decipher. How is it that a brilliant, athletic, cultured teenaged boy, with the fishing skills of Finnick Odair and the minimalist cooking potential of an aspiring Mark Bittman, becomes thoroughly flummoxed when faced with eggs, sugar, and bread?

"I just don't get it," Kurt says, slowly shaking his head in astonishment at the mounting horror laid out before his eyes.

"I…breakfast just isn't my thing, alright?" Sebastian grumbles, lunging to turn off the stove top before the contents of the frying pan light on fire…again.

When Sebastian said he had wanted to learn to make French toast, Kurt took the opportunity to teach him to heart, starting out by asking Sebastian to recreate for him the dish that nearly destroyed his own kitchen on Saturday. Kurt originally figured it was the combination of adrenaline, nerves, and Julian that had caused Sebastian to rifle through the entire contents of their drain board and cupboard in the valiant effort of creating a simple meal.

But no. Kurt can see from the mess before his eyes that Sebastian is quite capable of demolishing a perfectly good kitchen entirely on his own.

"Okay, okay," Kurt says, putting his hands up in defeat of his methods. "I think we got off to a bad start here." He leaps down from the bar stool he has been sitting on and circles the kitchen, surveying the damage. "Yeah, I think we took a definite step back."

"You told me to do what I did on Saturday," Sebastian says accusingly, wiping his hands on a dish towel and tossing it into the sink. "That's exactly what I did."

"Yes, you definitely did." Kurt doesn't want to laugh, especially when he saw how hard Sebastian tried, when he can see in his eyes, brimming with frustration and anger, how badly he wanted to succeed.

"Let's start from the beginning," Kurt decides, even with his stomach growling like a famished tiger.

"Wouldn't you rather pop some bagels in the toaster and be done with it?" Sebastian asks, leaning back against the counter, shoulders hunched in defeat.

Kurt rounds on him with narrowed eyes, brimming with ferocity, and flips his hair out of his face.

"Excuse me, sir," Kurt sneers, performing an exaggerated z-snap in the air, "but somebody mentioned wanting to learn how to make French Toast." Kurt crouches to get into Sebastian's line of sight. "And besides, I like the idea of you making me breakfast."

Sebastian's smirk returns, a little at the corners at first as if he's trying to resist Kurt's charm, but he can't. He lowers his guard and falls in line behind Kurt.

"Now, this is best done with stale bread, so let's lay out a couple of slices to dry out while we clean up this mess."

Sebastian tackles the dishes while Kurt lays out the bread on a paper towel by the stove. He then grabs a bowl from the drain board and gathers the ingredients to start the batter. Sebastian rinses and dries the plates and silverware, the whole while watching Kurt with curious eyes. Kurt cracks the eggs with one hand, tossing the broken shells into the trash, and Sebastian whistles in appreciation of his dexterity.

"How did you learn to do that?" he asks, putting the last dish in the cabinet and turning his full attention back on Kurt.

"My mom," Kurt says with a proud but wistful smile. "She loved to cook. We used to bake together every weekend, and then we'd have tea parties out on the front lawn." Kurt measures out some milk, keeping his eyes glued to his task, worried that any expression of sympathy from Sebastian might move him to tears. "She used to say that baking is a skill that requires equal parts science and art," Kurt continues, folding the sugar and eggs together. "We were going to open a bakery together. We were going to grow our own ingredients, grind our own wheat, raise our own bees for honey..."

Kurt ventures a glance in Sebastian's direction and warms all over at the look of sincere interest in his grass-green eyes, the way his body relaxes against the kitchen island, waiting patiently for Kurt to continue.

"I was kind of an overly ambitious child," Kurt explains.

"You?" Sebastian says with wide-eyed mock surprise. "Overly ambitious? Nope. I don't see it."

Kurt rolls his eyes and reaches for the vanilla. Sebastian sees Kurt's hand heading for the small amber bottle and grabs it instead; unscrewing the lid and joining Kurt at the mixing bowl. Kurt hands Sebastian a teaspoon.

"A teaspoon should be plenty," Kurt advises. Sebastian nods, holding the spoon up to eye level and pouring the liquid out with a series of stops and starts, determined to be exact. Kurt bites his lip to hide his smile, watching the look of deep concentration on Sebastian's face as he carefully measures out a teaspoon of vanilla and tips it into the batter.

Kurt finishes mixing and starts dipping slices of bread.

"So, where did _you_ learn to cook?" Kurt asks, expecting a similar story.

"In France," Sebastian says, picking up a few slices of bread and helping Kurt dip. "It was an elective at the school I attended and I decided to give it a shot. It was more attractive than some of the other options, and I figured where better to learn how to cook than France."

Kurt thought back for a moment on that amazing clam dish from the night before. What did Sebastian say he put in it? Clams, white wine, pasta, probably some garlic from somewhere in the kitchen…less than five ingredients; that sounded about right for provincial cooking.

The way Sebastian puts emphasis on the word 'attractive' makes Kurt wonder if maybe it was a _someone _that inspired Sebastian to take that class, but the subject of Sebastian's time in France seems to be a touchy one, and Kurt decides to avoid it for now.

"Well, I think we're ready for a pan," Kurt says.

"I don't think so," Sebastian says, stopping Kurt in his tracks with the sudden seriousness of his tone.

"Why not?" Kurt asks, tilting his head, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Because we've only used one bowl so far," Sebastian points out. "Don't we need to dirty at least seven more bowls and a couple of plates before we even start cooking?"

Sebastian grins and Kurt chuckles, shaking his head and putting a pan on the stove to heat.

"You would think so," Kurt says, spraying the hot pan down with non-stick cooking spray, "but surprisingly no."

They cook the battered slices in concert; Sebastian laying out the pieces on the pan and Kurt flipping them at the right time. Sebastian marvels at how Kurt seems to simply know when the side facing the heat is perfectly browned. Kurt can't help noticing how working together like this in the kitchen feels so familiar. It reminds him of the days when he and Blaine would do this – mostly at Blaine's house when his folks were gone because the Hummel-Hudson household was rarely ever truly empty, and having Finn and Puck interrupt them all the time broke the illusion. Playing house, which is a term Kurt always hated, but here it seemed to fit. Spending time together, sleeping in the same bed together, waking up side by side. Kurt and Sebastian have been playing all along, and Kurt is both excited and terrified to see how things will change once they stop playing and things start getting a bit more real.

The boys are so starved they start eating their breakfast in the kitchen; frantically blowing on the toast as they take it right off the stove, and then breaking the slices into pieces, dancing them between their fingertips to keep from burning themselves. They pop the still scalding pieces in their mouths, dodging them with their tongues so they can attempt to chew. Kurt nearly loses it when Sebastian accidentally bites his own tongue and screeches loudly, but then gets his when he snorts while he laughs and nearly inhales his food.

They go through this routine with about four slices of French Toast before they are sated enough to eat properly. Kurt and Sebastian take the last slices of their breakfast to the living room to eat like they did the night before, on the floor in front of the windows with their view of the ocean which Kurt knows will never get old for him.

"So, what is the plan for endangering our lives today?" Kurt teases.

"Nothing dangerous," Sebastian says, rolling his eyes. "In fact, we're going to lie out on the beach for most of the afternoon."

"Sounds exciting," Kurt deadpans. He puts a bite of French Toast in his mouth and sighs, enjoying his breakfast more now that he can take the time to taste it.

"Oh, but it is," Sebastian says. "We're conserving energy for the real main event which starts later on tonight."

Kurt coughs and almost chokes on his breakfast.

* * *

They throw on their swim suits right after the last crumb of French Toast is eaten and head off down to the beach. Kurt slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose so his eyes can sweep the shoreline out over the water to the horizon. The sky is an impossible periwinkle blue, and the wispy clouds from earlier in the morning have burned completely away. The calmer tide rolls onto the shore with gentle swells swaying to and fro. Everything about the beach is clear and untroubled.

They set their beach towels side by side in the sand, on a crest overlooking the water. Sebastian slathers on the bare minimum of sunscreen, obviously not too concerned with the prospect of getting tanner before the summer ends. He reclines on his towel, propped up on his elbows and watches Kurt painstakingly cover every inch of exposed skin in thick, white lotion.

"Are you sure you put enough on?" Sebastian jeers. "Because we've got a whole other bottle up at the house if you think you'll need it."

"Ha, ha," Kurt responds with a dry, unamused laugh. Having finished off his legs, Kurt squeezes another generous dollop into his palm and starts on his arms and chest. "I don't worship the sun the way you do. I'm not interested in freckling any more than I already have. Besides, I actually care about insignificant things like basal cell carcinoma and melanoma."

Sebastian shakes his head and turns his face up to the sky, shutting his eyes and soaking in the sun.

"It's a scary world you live in, princess."

Sebastian hears Kurt grunt with strain, and opens his eyes, catching Kurt bend his arm awkwardly trying to reach a spot on his back.

"You sure do like to make things harder than they need to be," Sebastian comments. He wipes the remaining sunscreen off Kurt's hand and climbs onto his towel, sliding over behind him. With slow, overlapping circles, Sebastian rubs the lotion down Kurt's back and massages it into his skin. Kurt bends forward at the touch of Sebastian's hands firmly kneading at the muscles in Kurt's back. Kurt brings his knees up and crosses his arms over them, dropping his head and closing his eyes, absorbing every stroke of Sebastian's fingertips, pinching his lower lip hard between his teeth to silence a moan. Sebastian stops for a moment and Kurt is about to complain, but he hears a rather obscene sputtering noise from the nearly empty bottle and smiles knowing Sebastian isn't done yet.

When Sebastian touches Kurt again, it is much more gentle, more soothing, exploring down his spine, traveling back up along his ribs, mapping out the cut of his muscles, finally settling on his shoulders and working at the knots there. It feels so intimate, sitting nestled together on the beach with Sebastian massaging his back, relishing the calm and the quiet, and Kurt comes to the conclusion that maybe waiting on sex won't be so bad if they can enjoy more of this middle ground; cooking and talking and touching and getting to know each other.

Sebastian pats Kurt on the shoulder, placing a single kiss on the spot where they meet, little more than a brush of his lips against Kurt's skin but it nearly sets his whole body on fire.

What was that Kurt was thinking about waiting on sex?

"I'm going to go for a swim and cool off," Sebastian says, and confident that Kurt wouldn't join him even if he outright invited him, Sebastian stands in one fluid movement and races off down the sand into the water.

Kurt watches Sebastian run, watches his muscular legs as they propel him along, and Kurt curses at himself in retrospect for never catching a single Dalton Lacrosse game. Sebastian hits the water, raising his knees high to make it past the swells, then dives beneath the breakers, his whole body swallowed by the white caps. Kurt holds his breath until Sebastian emerges again, farther out than Kurt expected, the defined lines of his back glistening with droplets of water which reflect the sunlight and wink back at Kurt, tempting him to get off his ass and follow.

"Damn," Kurt sighs with a single thought in mind.

Sebastian emerges several more times, each time swimming further and further out into the distance and Kurt wonders how far Sebastian can realistically go. He remembers seeing a few sandbars jutting out of the water when the tide was right. Maybe Sebastian is heading out to one of those. Kurt squints against the starbursts of twinkling light playing across the water's surface and sees what Sebastian is heading for – a bright yellow kayak bobbing on the water in the distance, its sole occupant waving at Sebastian, summoning him over. Kurt watches Sebastian head straight for it. Kurt squints harder and tilts his head, sliding his sunglasses as far up his nose as he can to get a better look at the man holding the oar. Even from this distance Kurt can tell that he's a bit older, blond, tan, cut – a pseudo-boyfriend's basic nightmare. He watches the two of them talk animatedly, discussion punctuated by genial laughter. Kurt wraps his arms tight around his knees, and for lack of anything better to do than seethe he improvises their conversation, the same way he and Rachel used to do during Spanish Telenovelas…before the main character inevitably got shoved down the stairs.

"Hi," Kurt mocks in a high, whiny voice when the man steering the kayak starts speaking, "I'm extremely tan and hung like an ox. Paddle away with me back to my private island so we can have all sorts of aerobic and mind-blowing sex."

"I can't," he says, in a more normal albeit lower register voice, not really wanting to make fun of Sebastian in this scenario. "I have a kind of…boyfriend…ish guy waiting for me on the sand. It's sort of complicated."

At that moment Sebastian turns, points his way and waves. Kurt raises an unenthusiastic hand and waves back. Sebastian and kayak guy talk a while longer, smiling and laughing some more. Then Sebastian does something that makes every hair on Kurt's body stand on end. Kurt sits up straighter, his spine bristling as he watches Sebastian struggle up onto the back of the floating vessel.

Kurt shields his eyes with his hand and stares harder to be sure he's seeing things correctly, that he's not preparing to swim off and bitch slap a man in a kayak for no good reason.

Yup. Sebastian is climbing into the back of this man's two person kayak, ready to go off God knows where.

_Oh, hell to the no!_

Kurt launches himself off the sand and heads straight for the water, tossing his sunglasses onto the beach towel, the light stinging his eyes and blinding him briefly, but Kurt doesn't care. He knows basically where he's headed. He can hear vague shouting, and picks out the mention of his name.

"Yeah, right," Kurt mumbles as he makes his way out past the shallow swells. "Like I'm going to let you run off with long, tan and handsome."

Kurt dives into the water with less grace and technique than Sebastian had, letting the liquid cool engulf his body, surrounding him and buffering away some of the rougher edges of his prickly temper.

Maybe he won't exactly bitch slap kayak guy, Kurt decides, but Sebastian probably won't be so lucky.

Kurt paddles with his feet, skimming along the ocean floor. When he finds it hard to hold his breath any longer, he kicks off the sand with his eyes shut to block out the salt water, and breaks through the surface. Kurt emerges from the breakers, running his hands through his hair and down his face, wiping away the water from his nose and eyes. He spins his head around to get his bearings. Ahead of him he sees the kayak, Sebastian and his new friend paddling towards him but still quite a distance away. He tries to turn again to see how far he swam on one breath, finding it hard to fight against the current which has suddenly become stronger since he is farther out. He manages a quarter turn and realizes his horrible mistake. He freezes, floating in the water, his eyes wide. Heading his way at an alarming rate for a creature that doesn't actively swim is a jellyfish. Correction. A swarm of jellyfish, moving along with the rise of the swells, tentacles trailing out behind them.

Now all the yelling makes sense.

Kurt's never seen creatures like these up close before. In fact, the only time he's ever seen a jellyfish was on a National Geographic video in biology class. A mere foot from his face like this, they seem tranquil, hypnotic, and utterly terrifying.

Kurt flails, trying to hurl himself backward, but the more he struggles the more he feels like he's staying in the same spot. Buoyant gelatinous domes drift towards him, venomous threads fanning out around them, heeding none of the curses or ridiculous warnings he's currently lofting in their direction. The only thing he succeeds in doing is swallowing about a gallon of sea water. He tries to bat them away, pushing hard against the wall of water flowing in a diagonal past him, but it only seems to attract them to his retreating body. He bounces around on one leg, the cross current beneath the surface forcing his other leg up while he attempts to walk backward, parallel to the shore.

Maybe this isn't the best thought out plan of Kurt's life.

Realistically he should fear for his life. (Multiple jellyfish stings can kill people, right?) But more than that he's dreading the hours of sardonic lecturing he's going to get if he gets stung by these animals. He hops backward a few more steps, slipping and ducking beneath the swell, coming up with his eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain.

Kurt hobbles along one-legged in this fashion, maintaining his balance in the relatively calm water, but as the universe so often likes to do to Kurt Hummel it delivers a big heaping helping of 'fuck you' in the form of a pesky undercurrent that sweeps his foot out from under him, his floating leg shooting up closer to the surface and brushing something that immediately stings like a thousand spines on fire the minute it touches his skin.

The pain knocks the air out of him, erases every thought from his head. A second current sweeps his other leg out from under him, but before his head dips down below the surface, the yellow kayak slips silently between Kurt and the oncoming gelatinous horde. Strong arms grab Kurt, lifting his upper body clear of the water and bending him halfway over the kayak.

"Are you unintentionally stupid, or is this something you actually work on?"

Kurt sucks in sharply, regaining some of his stolen breath, enough to growl back, "Well, excuse me, Michael Phelps…" Kurt is so out of breath he feels like he's yelling to be heard, "…but it escaped my notice when exactly you told me 'Be careful if you go in the water, Kurt! There might be jellyfish migrating this way!'"

From the front seat, the man steering the kayak snickers.

The sound reminds Kurt of the plan that compelled him to leap into the ocean to begin with.

"Aren't you going to introduce me to your _friend_?" Kurt sneers, knowing that he shouldn't be bitchy, that he should be grateful to this man for helping save him from his own stupidity.

Sebastian catches the jealousy in Kurt's voice, and Kurt can feel Sebastian shake with anger. This is definitely new. Kurt has seen Sebastian in various stages of mad, but this time Sebastian isn't run-of-the-mill angry. He's positively infuriated.

"Kurt," Sebastian says in a clipped, menacing tone, "this is Mark. He's the lifeguard from the other side of the beach. He warned me about the jellyfish and offered to bring me back to shore in his kayak so I wouldn't get _stung_. Mark, this is my boyfriend Kurt, and he's an idiot."

It takes a moment for what Sebastian said to truly sink in, but when it does, when it worms through the folds of his brain, repeating once or twice to be sure he understands it right, Kurt gasps, his chin dropping as the kayak hits a swell and his mouth fills with ocean water. He sputters and coughs, making the least attractive noises in history, his mind still trying to deal with the fact that Sebastian called him his boyfriend.

"Okay, things are going to get choppy as we approach the breakers," Mark warns them, "so hold tight."

Kurt scrabbles to find a place on the slippery kayak's skin to grab a hold, but Sebastian wraps his arms around him and keeps him locked in place against his body.

Mark maneuvers the kayak to right before the breakers so as not to ground his boat and potentially drag Kurt's body over the gritty, hard packed sand.

"I have to go back to the main beach," Mark says, helping to hold Kurt steady while Sebastian eases out of the kayak and back into the water. "Are you guys good from here?"

"Yeah, we're good," Sebastian assures him.

Kurt wants to object. He needs an ambulance, a doctor, emergency medical care. He's sure he can feel the venom working its way through his bloodstream, trying to reach his heart and lungs. Oh, sure, he's fine now, but in 24 hours he could be dead.

In one swift motion, Sebastian sweeps Kurt off his feet and makes a dash for the beach, racing past their towels and heading straight for the house. Kurt loops his arms automatically around Sebastian's neck and rethinks his position on a trip to the hospital.

_'Yup,' _Kurt decides_. 'We're good.' _

The thrill of being whisked away from danger like Fay Wray in _The Legion of the Condemned_ is clouded by Sebastian's cursing with every step and compounded by the fact that Kurt's skin feels like it is trying to peel away from his leg.

Sebastian makes his way to one of the outdoor showers and with one hand throws the door open. Kurt comes to his senses, the euphoria of the moment shoved aside by the memory of something he once heard about treating jellyfish stings (something he thinks he overheard when Finn and Puck were watching _The Simpsons_, or _South Park_ maybe, but that doesn't necessarily make it untrue).

"Please please please tell me you aren't going to pee on me!" Kurt cries. "I don't think our budding relationship will survive if you have to urinate on me."

Sebastian's severe mask cracks with a laugh and his patented smirk when he turns on the shower temperature to warm and holds Kurt beneath it, letting the water wash over the red and inflamed area of his leg. Kurt hisses, going rigid at the contact of the spray against his skin, but as soon as the remains of the venom start to rinse away, Kurt's tense body relaxes. Sebastian sets Kurt down carefully and leaves without a word, returning a minute later with a glass bottle of white wine vinegar. Sebastian kneels and examines Kurt's injury, pulling something off Kurt's ankle that smarts like barbed wire dipped in acid.

"Those were sea nettles," Sebastian says, removing the last stragglers. "The wound's not deep so you probably just brushed it." Sebastian looks up at Kurt through the falling water. "Thank God it didn't get you on the ass."

Sebastian douses the wound with vinegar and Kurt clenches his teeth against the pain, groaning loudly.

"Oh…oh holy fuck, that hurts!"

"Keep it down, will you?" Sebastian remarks, pouring most of the contents of the bottle on Kurt's leg. "I'm sure the whole beach can hear you. I don't want people getting the wrong idea."

Kurt grits his teeth when Sebastian stands and lets the warm water replace the vinegar. He leans against the shower wall and rests his head back, staring blankly up at the cloudless sky.

"Why the fuck did you do that, Kurt?" Sebastian shakes his head. "I mean, I waved. I yelled. It was like you intentionally didn't want to listen to me."

Kurt thinks of a dozen excuses he can give to avoid fessing up to the truth, but he doesn't want to lie to Sebastian. He doesn't want to lose the trust that he's been given; the trust that took this long to earn.

"Because," Kurt starts weakly, "I saw you out there talking to some handsome guy, and I just…I don't know…"

"What? Did you think that Sebastian the whore was going to run off with some random guy and leave you on the beach waiting for me?"

Kurt cringes as the bitterness in Sebastian's voice seeps beneath his skin like a viscous oil, making him feel dirty regardless of the cleansing spray of water.

"Can you blame me? I mean, how many times…" Kurt bites his tongue. He doesn't want to dig up old dirt. He knows it isn't fair. Kurt shakes his head, starting over from an alternate perspective. "Of the two of us, whose supposed _soulmate_ left for California and then cheated?"

Sebastian opens his mouth to respond, but stops short of speaking, pressing his lips together in a tight line, holding back whatever comment he is about to make. Kurt doesn't want to fight, but he would be lying if he says he isn't burning with curiosity.

For some reason he has a feeling that comment, whatever it was, had nothing to do with Blaine.

"Don't lump me together with him," he says instead.

"I'm not. Excuse me if I'm gun shy."

Sebastian nods, but doesn't look at Kurt, choosing to keep his eyes fixed on the sky above them.

Kurt reaches out hesitantly and takes Sebastian's hand. Sebastian sighs and opens his fingers against Kurt's palm, lacing their fingers together. Kurt looks between the two of them, at their linked hands and breathes out slowly.

Getting stung. This is what it took to get Sebastian in the shower with him.

If he had known that yesterday, he might have taken off his canvas jumpsuit at The Busy Bee and swatted madly at those little fuckers.

"So…do I get to call you my boyfriend now?" Kurt looks at Sebastian, batting his eyes innocently.

"What?" Sebastian looks back at him, trying to appear shocked and confused. "When did that happen?"

"Well, you told Mark I was your boyfriend…" Kurt tugs Sebastian's arm and Sebastian gravitates towards him. He shelters Kurt from the cooling water with his body, hands braced against the wall on either side of his head. "…and you know lifeguards. Big blabbermouths. He's going to tell everyone."

"You think so?"

Sebastian leans into Kurt and Kurt pulls Sebastian closer, close enough till their bodies press flush together with the now cold water dripping in rivers around them, rolling off Kurt's shoulder and running down Sebastian's chest, dribbling over Sebastian's thigh and trickling onto Kurt's knee.

"Yeah," Kurt answers quietly, his eyes drifting over Sebastian's face, from the wet bangs clinging to Sebastian's forehead, to his green eyes growing darker as they stare boldly back at Kurt, and finally flicking to his lips, slightly parted. They always seem to end up in this place, this place of wanting and waiting where Kurt holds his breath and Sebastian seems to search Kurt's face for permission to continue.

Kurt is beginning to grow very fond of this place.

Sebastian breathes Kurt in, the tip of his nose running down Kurt's cheek, and that's all it takes. That's the last step. Sebastian kisses him; plain and uncomplicated. The pain in Kurt's leg is faint, fading, far away from him. Kurt feels safe and secure, hidden beneath the frame of Sebastian's arms. Sebastian trembles around him, and in that moment Kurt would give anything to know what Sebastian is thinking.

Not one to disappoint, Sebastian whispers into Kurt's mouth, "This water is fr-freezing."

"Maybe we should finish our shower inside," Kurt suggests, sure this new bravado comes straight from Sebastian's lips on his skin.

"We could always strip down real quick and take our shower out here."

Sebastian pecking a line of kisses down Kurt's neck is almost enough persuasion to make Kurt say yes.

"But, wouldn't we have to walk back to the house naked?" Kurt asks, stretching out his neck in a silent plea for Sebastian to keep going.

"A-ha. Julian and I used to do it all the time. Pissed the hell out of Liv."

Kurt twists his head to gaze down at Sebastian, who is already looking back, waiting for Kurt's reaction.

"Wait…" Kurt says, putting his hand on Sebastian's chest, "…give me a minute to picture that in my mind."

Sebastian smiles, but then almost immediately scowls.

"Are you picturing…"

"Shhh," Kurt says, staring off into space with a dreamy look on his face.

"You know what…" Sebastian reaches for the faucet and cuts the water off with a twist of his wrist, "after two weeks out here sand in your ass crack is pretty much going to become a way of life, so you might as well get used to it now."

Sebastian drags him out of the shower by the hand he has yet to let go of with Kurt hopping behind to keep up.

"Aww, Seb," Kurt whines, his entire body shuddering as he holds back a laugh. "I was just getting to the good parts."

Sebastian turns and glares at Kurt square in the face, the laugh in Kurt's throat dying before it reaches his lips.

"Because of your asinine stunt I have to take care of your sorry ass, so we're going to go inside and grab a nap before dinner because no one's getting any kind of sleep tonight…understand?"

Kurt nods once, his expression blank, not sure if what Sebastian said could be classified as a threat or a promise, but he doesn't have time to weigh the options. Sebastian picks Kurt up over his shoulder and carries him the rest of the way, smacking him on the ass when he makes a fuss and squirms to break free. Sebastian lugs Kurt straight into his room and drops him indignantly on the bed, flopping down beside him.

"Geez, caveman, don't I have any say in the matter?" Kurt asks, unable to suppress his laughter any longer.

"Nope," Sebastian snaps, but at least he's grinning now, and Kurt didn't really mind being carried into the bedroom and dumped on his ass so much.

Actually, it was kind of hot.

They lay on their backs beside one another, and this time instead of one person crossing the breach, they meet each other halfway, like it's becoming natural to reach across the bed and find a hand waiting to be held.

Kurt lies there awake, his mind racing as he stares blankly at the ceiling. He can't remember the last time he took a nap in the afternoon, and even though he's tired from swimming and crashing from the adrenaline levels in his body plummeting, it's hard to think of sleep with Sebastian's hand in his, his warmth seeping into Kurt's skin. It's too difficult for his brain to not constantly return to the conundrum of Sebastian, and all the things Kurt admittedly doesn't know about him, all the things he _should_ know about him. Their days together are numbered; Kurt knows this. Even without the original deadline of Blaine's return to split them inevitably apart, the summer will come to an end and college will start, and even if they decide to see this through, it will be at separate schools, most likely in separate states, maybe even different countries.

Suddenly, Kurt's chest tightens, and impulsively he blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"What's your favorite color?"

Sebastian turns his head on his pillow and considers Kurt for a moment, then he bursts out laughing.

"What?" Kurt says affronted. "You said I get to learn stuff about you."

"And that's the first question you ask?" Sebastian asks, still laughing. "My favorite color?"

"Well, I don't know it."

Sebastian continues laughing and Kurt couldn't feel more like an idiot if he tried; considering he got stung by a jellyfish while attempting to chase down a lifeguard he thought was flirting with his boyfriend that's saying a lot.

"You know what? If you're going to be an asshole, just forget it," Kurt says, deciding sleep sounds like an excellent idea.

Sebastian turns his eyes back up to the ceiling and sighs.

"It's green."

Kurt rolls his eyes and snickers.

"Ahh…"

"What?" Sebastian shifts on to his side and glowers at Kurt.

"Ever the narcissist," Kurt says dramatically. "Let me guess, green like your eyes are green?"

"No, princess," Sebastian says, reaching over to pinch Kurt on the side, grinning cruelly when Kurt yelps, "green like the grass, or leaves." Kurt raises a skeptical eyebrow at Sebastian's answer, waiting for an explanation. "When we were kids, my mom had a chore for each of us that we would get to do with her. You know, a little parental one-on-one time with a dash of forced labor mixed in. I got gardening. It made me partial to the color green."

Kurt makes a face and nods, filing this tidbit of information away, feeling a sense of personal triumph for learning it.

"So, what's your favorite color then? Blue?" Sebastian kids.

"No," Kurt says sheepishly. "It's gold."

"Ooo, like Oscar Award gold or Tony Award gold?"

"No," Kurt says, defensive of his color choice. "Like pale champagne gold, or sunset gold. When the light of the sun barely peeks over the horizon and the first rays cut through the dark. That gold."

"Mmm, okay," Sebastian says. "I'll buy that."

Kurt watches Sebastian's eyes drift shut, and Kurt knows he should let the conversation drop, close his eyes and take a nap in preparation for whatever Sebastian has planned later than night, but one more important question is niggling in his head, and he knows he won't be able to rest with it playing in his brain.

"What college are you going to?"

Sebastian doesn't open his eyes, but his lips curl up at the corners.

"Hmm, I'm not ready to answer that yet."

"Why?" Kurt asks with the tiniest hint of a whine. "You said your parents already paid your tuition."

"No, they have my tuition money set aside," Sebastian clarifies. "I have a few options, but the appeal of certain ones keeps changing. I'm not ready to discuss it right now."

"Okay," Kurt relents, feeling no more relieved or comforted about their future as a couple than he did when the question first occurred to him.

"Go to sleep, Kurt," Sebastian murmurs.

"Sebastian," Kurt says quickly, wanting to catch Sebastian before he falls asleep, "would you do something kind of silly for me?"

Sebastian sighs.

"Kurt, I just got comfortable. I'm not giving you a lap dance right now."

"No," Kurt giggles. "Would you sing to me?"

Sebastian doesn't answer Kurt, and he figures he asked him a second too late, but Sebastian opens his eyes slowly, examining the blue depths of Kurt's eyes before he speaks.

"Yeah…uh…yeah, okay."

Sebastian flips onto his back, and Kurt moves closer to him, draping an arm over his waist and resting his head on Sebastian's chest above his heart. If it's uncomfortable and not at all suited for singing, Sebastian doesn't mention it.

"This is a song my mom used to sing to us when we were little."

Kurt waits patiently, holding as still as humanly possible, not wanting to do anything that might make Sebastian reconsider. Sebastian clears his throat a few times, and after a long pause he starts singing softly, only loud enough for Kurt to hear.

_'We have been gay_  
_Going our way_  
_Life has been beautiful_  
_We have been young_  
_After you've gone_  
_Life will go on_  
_Like an old song we have sung_

_When I grow too old to dream_  
_I'll have you to remember_  
_When I grow too old to dream_  
_Your love will live in my heart_

_So kiss me my sweet_  
_And so let us part_  
_And when I grow too old to dream_  
_That kiss will live in my heart_

_And when I grow too old to dream_  
_Your love will live in my heart_  
_Oh your love will live in my heart'_

Kurt listens to Sebastian sing, hanging on every word, his soothing tenor voice lulling Kurt to a place near sleep, but the growing tight sensation in his chest keeps him awake long enough to listen to Sebastian finish.

"That's a pretty song…" Kurt mumbles through lips beginning to grow numb with exhaustion, "but it's so sad."

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, "My grandma used to sing it to my mom when she was little, I think. A tradition of depressing kids throughout the generations. I'll probably continue it with my kids. You know, keep it in the family."

Kurt wants to look up at Sebastian, to look in his eyes and see if he's teasing, but his head is becoming too heavy to lift.

"You think about having kids?" Kurt asks, his voice muffled against Sebastian's chest.

"Sometimes. Why? Is that weird?"

Kurt thinks about the question. Kurt has seen Sebastian in a dozen new ways since their arrangement began, ways that changed Kurt's perception about as many times, but envisioning him as a father…and a husband. It was hard for Kurt to picture, but not altogether impossible. Seeing Sebastian with his family, the way they laughed and joked and supported one another made it easier.

"No," Kurt says after a thoughtful silence. "It's just so…optimistic of you."

Sebastian chuckles, the movement shifting Kurt where his head lay and Kurt re-adjusted, pulling closer and wrapping the arm that snaked around Sebastian's waist tighter.

"Optimistic. I guess that's as good a way to put it as any."

Kurt's silence between his sentences grows, and Sebastian is sure he's fallen asleep, but he shifts again.

"'Bastian?"

"Yeah, Kurt?"

"You have a beautiful voice."

"Thank you," Sebastian says softly, and Kurt can hear his smile.

Sebastian starts to hum the song over again, running his fingers lightly over Kurt's shoulders and down his back, and with the sound of Sebastian's voice filling his ears, he finds a way to fall asleep.


	6. ACITW AU CH24C

Kurt and Sebastian wake from their nap at roughly the same time, limbs lacing tighter together before their eyes blink open, bleary with sleep. The light in the room has gotten dimmer from when they first laid down, and the walls, the bed, and their bodies are bathed in a warm, golden glow. Neither of them thought to set an alarm before they drifted off to sleep, allowing their own circadian rhythm, synchronized now it seems by the rising and falling of the tides, to take control. Sebastian has plans for them but nothing is urgent, rushed or hurried – not with the day or the night, and nothing between them.

Kurt yawns, shifting to raise his arms above his head and stretch out fully on the bed, but he finds them twined with Sebastian's. Kurt tugs gently but Sebastian holds them tight against his chest. He looks at Kurt with a blank, unreadable expression, and Kurt stares right back, for some reason feeling the need to let Sebastian know in the simplest way possible, with no words expressed – _I'm here_.

There's a pause, a space between heartbeats more before Sebastian smiles, slow burning but happy; sweetly and sincerely happy. In one swift move that Kurt doesn't expect, Sebastian climbs over him, stealing another moment to let his eyes linger on Kurt's face before leaning in further and kissing him.

Kurt feels Sebastian breathe him in as their lips touch, and anticipation wells up within him, bubbling beneath his skin like a geyser constantly on the verge of erupting. He's allowing Sebastian to set their pace for the most part, which leaves him aching to know when? When will it happen? When will Sebastian decide the time is right; that the stars have aligned and perfect is now? Does he have a plan in mind, or is he playing it by ear? As much as Kurt wants to scream into Sebastian's mouth with the raw need that builds in his stomach every time Sebastian touches him, Kurt has to admit, the torture of not knowing is actually rather sublime.

Sebastian's tongue slips between the seam of Kurt's lips and touches his gently; tender, lazy strokes, tastes and promises of things to come, all the things Kurt can't help but look forward to. Kurt's mind starts reeling. The play of Sebastian's fingers across his skin, the warmth of his mouth, the way their lips move against each other unlocks a maelstrom of thoughts and memories that swirl and overlap until one distinct image pops unbidden to the forefront of his mind.

Kurt's first time with Blaine.

Losing his virginity had been everything he had hoped and dreamed about for so long – beautiful, special, romantic. Even with the status of his relationship with Blaine the way it was, on this one account he had no regrets, but in many ways losing their virginities when they did was in some small measurement about staking a claim…a claim that might not have been necessary, ironically enough, if not for Sebastian Smythe. Before Sebastian had made a play for Blaine, whatever his reasons, Kurt felt he and Blaine had all the time in the world for firsts, sex being among them.

Back then, Sebastian was the enemy, dropping in from out of the blue to destroy everything that Kurt thought he wanted; but the Sebastian that Kurt knows now, the one who cooks magnificent dinners but burns breakfast, the one with an overwhelming and infectious love of books and music, the one who kisses like sin but sings like an angel, who wants a chance at love, a chance at love with _Kurt_, is so far removed from that cocky, meerkat-faced ass with the CW hair that sometimes it's hard for Kurt to resolve that they are the same person. What would have happened if Kurt had met _this_ Sebastian that day at the Lima Bean? What if Sebastian had made a move on him and not Blaine? Where would they be right now?

Sebastian pulls away slowly, watching Kurt chase his lips until he moves too far out of reach and smiling when Kurt collapses back onto the pillow with a whimper. Sebastian looks into Kurt's eyes with a question building in the furrow of his brow and the crinkle of his forehead.

"Where did you go right then?" Sebastian asks, leaning low again, his lips teasing at the corners of Kurt's mouth but his eyes clouded with worry.

Kurt teases back, planting nips to Sebastian's kiss-swollen lower lip.

"Nowhere," Kurt covers, not willing to bring up the subject of past rivalries during this crucial moment.

"Bullshit," Sebastian responds, almost automatically, the corner of his mouth twisting into a sly, knowing grin.

Kurt doesn't want to lie; he promised himself he wouldn't, but he'll be damned if he ruins any beautiful moment he gets with Sebastian, especially ones that involve getting lost in each other's touches and kisses, the soft sound of Sebastian's breathless pants as his tongue traces patterns over the contours of Kurt's mouth, and the sunset lighting their skin.

"You're right," Kurt agrees. "That is bullshit. But I don't want to talk about it right now. It's not important."

Sebastian scoffs. His smile slips and Kurt fears that it might not come back.

"Somehow I don't entirely buy that."

"Okay, how about this…" Kurt loops his arms around Sebastian's neck and pulls him closer. "_This_ is more important."

Sebastian's smile returns, brightening his whole face from his lips to his eyes, so spectacular that Kurt is almost sorry when Sebastian kisses him again and he can no longer see it, but he feels it against his mouth, against his skin. Another kiss follows that one, and another, and another. Sebastian lays his lean, muscular body over Kurt's, fitting them together, and the more that Sebastian does, the more Kurt begins to see how well they really do fit. Maybe they always did. Kurt just didn't give himself the chance to notice it.

Sebastian sighs into the next and final kiss. His eyes flutter open, noticing the stretching shadows creeping across the floor toward them.

"Come on," he says with as much enthusiasm as defeat. "Let's grab a bite and get our asses going."

"We…we could always stay here," Kurt stammers, sheer force of will keeping him from attacking Sebastian's lips as they retreat farther away.

Sebastian's eyes widen and Kurt can see him sincerely consider his offer for a second before shaking his head with another strained, shuddering sigh.

"No," he says, untangling himself from Kurt's arms. "We have plans, and I have a feeling you don't want to miss this."

Sebastian's eyes don't leave Kurt's face when he backs off the bed. He stands and stops mid-step to gaze at Kurt, letting his eyes travel down Kurt's body with an appreciative grin, then turning and walking from the room.

Kurt sinks back into the pillow, letting the sting of frustration bleed away into the sheets around him before he even thinks of following Sebastian into the kitchen. As sublime a torture as Sebastian can inflict, Kurt isn't sure how much more he can take before it starts doing some real damage to his psyche.

Kurt scrabbles down the length of the bed and hops off, wincing at the dull ache of the healing sea nettle sting, and follows Sebastian to the kitchen with heavy footsteps, trying not to limp too obviously.

"So, what's on the menu?" Kurt calls out, watching Sebastian put a pot on the stove, and then rush to collect various bottles of dried herbs out of the cabinet.

"Leek soup." Sebastian winks at Kurt. "Didn't we agree to leek soup from here on out because our recent foray into café eating was getting too fattening for you?"

Kurt laughs, calling Sebastian's bluff, but Sebastian raises an eyebrow, sending a significant look his way.

"Wait, you were serious about that?" Kurt asks, incredulous.

"Yup," Sebastian says, directing his attention to the task at hand, filling the stopped sink with water and dropping a healthy bunch of leeks into it.

"But…but that sounds so…thin…" Kurt whines. He hops up onto a nearby stool to watch Sebastian's creation come together, marveling at how he barely pays much attention to what he tosses into the voluminous silver pot; such a contrast from this morning when he painstakingly measured ingredients down to the nearest teaspoon. If Kurt didn't know better he would think Sebastian is making things up as he goes along.

"It's super thin," Sebastian admits, reaching into the fridge and taking out a narrow, red carton; holding it up and presenting it to Kurt for his inspection. "That's why you've got to put a ton of cream and butter in it to thicken it up."

"Doesn't that kind of defeat the purpose?"

Sebastian shrugs, pouring the entire contents of the carton into the waiting pot, holding it upside down after it's empty to get every last drop.

"Come on, Hummel. Live a little."

"Says the man who was flirting with the lifeguard while his _boyfriend_ was swimming with killer jellyfish," Kurt says with mock offense, putting extra emphasis on the word boyfriend, digging in a bit to get a rise out of Sebastian.

Sebastian stops cooking, slamming the empty carton onto the kitchen counter and taking a deep breath with his back turned. Without a word, he spins around and advances on Kurt so swiftly that for a brief, flickering moment Kurt doesn't have any idea what he plans on doing. A wicked ember burns in his determined glare, but whether it's fueled by anger or some other emotion Kurt doesn't know. He can't yet interpret Sebastian's moods which sometimes change like the weather, but Kurt is pretty sure that whatever Sebastian plans on doing, it's meant to put him in his place.

Sebastian puts his hands on Kurt's knees and spreads his legs open wide so that he can fit between them. He wraps an arm around Kurt's waist and pulls him close, crushing their bodies together hard so that it knocks the air out of his lungs, another hand securely holding the curve of his skull. Then Sebastian kisses him, God does he kiss him, and every single cliché Kurt has ever heard about the power of a single kiss makes perfect sense – toe curling, blood boiling, awe-inspiring – they are all there and more.

Sebastian kisses Kurt breathless, sucking his tongue into his mouth before he starts to speak.

"So, what is it you think I was doing again?"

Kurt can hear Sebastian speaking. He's asking Kurt a question, but there's no way that Kurt can come up with an answer. He would be completely surprised if there's even a drop of blood left in his head that hasn't already migrated to southern climes.

"Wait…what?" Kurt murmurs, inching closer, shamelessly trying to get Sebastian to kiss him again, but the smug boy simply steps away from his wobbly boyfriend, who suddenly finds himself struggling to learn how to use his bones and muscles again.

"That's what I thought," Sebastian says, going back to the large pot and its simmering contents.

* * *

"So, you're not going to tell me where we're going?"

Kurt sits with his legs crossed, staring inquisitively at Sebastian from his seat in the Mustang, radio turned off specifically so Kurt can assault Sebastian with questions.

"Nope," Sebastian says with a superior shake of his head. "It's a surprise."

"Well, the last surprise you planned could have gotten you killed." Kurt crosses his arms across his chest with a huff.

"Stop being such a drama queen," Sebastian drawls with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, "and enjoy yourself."

Kurt rolls his eyes, a childish take on mimicking Sebastian's gesture, and stares up at the cloudless night sky.

Dinner was delicious. Kurt had had no idea that such a blasé vegetable could taste so exquisite, decadent and rich, but it seems like par for the course lately; Sebastian's ability to astound him and change his perceptions in unexpected ways. Sebastian still wouldn't give Kurt any inkling as to where he intended on taking him, but as curious as Kurt was about what Sebastian had planned, he almost couldn't convince himself to leave the beach house with the promise of 'more' hanging in the air. That was until Sebastian kissed him, softly but possessively, and instructed him to wear the sexiest thing he brought with him. That one command definitely cemented in Kurt's mind that they were going out, hell or high water.

The fact remains that Kurt wants Sebastian. He's becoming desperate with wanting him. Sebastian knows it; he has to by now. Sebastian made matters worse while they were getting ready for the evening. After Kurt took his shower Sebastian led him to the bed, sat him down gently, knelt in front of him, and proceeded to wrap the jellyfish stings on his leg.

"You're going to be completely useless after half an hour if you don't keep this bandaged," Sebastian said, applying a sterile pad to the wound and rolling gauze over it to keep it in place. Kurt simply stared in awe while Sebastian took care of him, the thought that Sebastian would want to take care of him still foreign and to a point confusing. After he secured the bandage and tied off the ends with the skill of a seasoned Boy Scout, Sebastian placed a small kiss on the knot. He looked up at Kurt with a devilish smirk and added, "There's no way I'm carrying your ass around all night."

Kurt shifts in his seat as the memory fades, turning his gaze back to Sebastian right as Sebastian reaches out a hand to switch on the radio. Kurt intercepts him and slaps the hand away.

"I'm not done with my interrogation, Mr. Smythe."

"If you're going to be a bitch all night, I'll pull over and you can walk," Sebastian groans.

"It's a nice night," Kurt mutters. "Maybe I wouldn't mind walking."

"Uh, yeah, I think you would." Sebastian points out the windshield and off to his right in the direction of the water, indicating the longest stretch of bridge Kurt has ever seen. It spits out from the coast and into the water, going on for miles and miles, cutting through the black ocean on both sides.

"What the…"

Kurt spins his head around, trying to catch sight of the bridge from every angle. He leans against his window, peering past the traffic that has started to build up at the far end, only the red glow of brake lights visible in the distance.

"There's usually not this much activity on the bridge," Sebastian hints with a grin. "We might be here for a while."

"Are they all going where we're going?" Kurt asks, his mouth dropping at the sheer number of vehicles he can see stopped ahead of them, and now coming to a halt behind them.

"Probably," Sebastian replies vaguely. "If you open your window a crack, you'll most likely hear it before you see it."

Kurt rolls down his window a touch so that the evening breeze rushing by doesn't completely decimate his hair, and as if on cue he can hear a bass beat bumping…several bass beats, a multitude of different songs blending together with different rhythms and tempos, punctuating the air, tearing through the night, growing louder and louder as they move along, touch and go behind the parade of cars.

They hedge along for about an hour, crawling at a snail's pace, led by the diverse pounding music - from what Kurt can hear so far, mixed strains of rock, hip-hop, and house. Kurt peeks into the windows of the cars around them and sees some drivers with their heads thrown back on their headrests in frustration at the never ending cavalcade, but more people than that dancing enthusiastically to the music flooding the crowded bridge. Cars bottle neck as several take the exit into the city and the rest continue on to where search lights fan out and cut across the sky. The cars crest a ridge en masse and Sebastian's Mustang pulls into view of a vast swath of sand, a bar of beach miles long, literally teeming with people, cars, and makeshift stages. Bands play while people dance, jump and gyrate together; giving life to a single undulating organism, moving as one even when the music changes and a new band starts a set. A few tents cluster in places outside of the dance circle where some people have stopped to eat and drink. Amidst the mayhem a number of carefree couples have sex on the sand, not minding an inch who's around to watch, one couple going at it right beside a campfire where their friends (or whoever) are gathered, roasting marshmallows over the flames and talking animatedly.

Kurt leans over Sebastian, gawking with wide, unblinking eyes, fighting to get a better look. Sebastian sees the flush on Kurt's cheeks and chuckles.

"Still such a noob, princess."

"Is …is that a circuit party?" Kurt asks, ignoring Sebastian's remark.

"Kind of." Sebastian cranes his neck to see past the arm barring his view, maneuvering his car behind the throng heading toward the party.

"I've always wanted to go to one!" Kurt exclaims (and why is that starting to sound so familiar?) in a naïve tone that kind of proves Sebastian's point.

"You don't say." Sebastian's grin is calculating but not cruel, his eyes shining with all sorts of untold secrets. "Then you're lucky. This is one of the biggest on the east coast."

Kurt scans the beach at the cars and people packed together like sheep.

"How are we ever going to find a place to park?" Kurt asks, watching the cars circle around, drivers searching in vain for a spot, some opting to pull over and park dangerously close to the surf.

"I kind of have…connections," Sebastian says, choosing his words carefully, leaving it at that. Kurt turns to him, scrutinizing his perplexing expression.

Sebastian drives down the beach, past people who have already given up on finding a spot and are heading back toward the beginning to make other arrangements. He drives straight for a roped-off area where a handful of muscular, shirtless men in tight jeans, thin glow sticks wrapped around their necks and wrists, wave some cars in and others away. One man standing right out front, caramel-colored skin slick like it's been slathered with baby oil, spots Sebastian right away and waves him over, a huge smile of white teeth aimed in his direction.

Kurt notices that smile dim considerably when the man sees him sitting at Sebastian's side.

"Hey, Carlos," Sebastian calls out over the music as the Mustang comes to a stop by the man's side.

"Hey," Carlos says, leaning a hip against the car door, his brown eyes bouncing from Sebastian to Kurt and then back to Sebastian again, "it's nice to see you back, man!"

He extends his hand for Sebastian to take and Sebastian slaps his palm quickly, but not fast enough for Kurt to miss the handoff of money that takes place.

"Nice to be back," Sebastian says, thrumming his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel when Carlos doesn't step away from the car and let Sebastian drive by.

Carlos can't seem to stop looking between Sebastian and Kurt, narrowing his eyes at Kurt when he does, sizing him up and down.

"So, will you be stopping by later?" Carlos asks, coming to the conclusion that Kurt is not much of a threat and deciding to completely ignore him. He leans down over the car window and looks at Sebastian with hopeful eyes.

"Nah," Sebastian says with a shake of his head, snaking an arm around Kurt's shoulders and pulling him close, uncomfortably so. "We're going to stick to the beach."

Kurt isn't entirely sure what's going on between Sebastian and Carlos, but from the way Carlos's smile fades Kurt is certain this man didn't expect to see Sebastian arrive with a date.

"Your loss," Carlos shrugs him off, his tone unconvincing. He moves away from the car and points to an area with parking spots available. Sebastian drives off and the man's eyes drift to Kurt's face, glaring daggers of disappointment and hate.

"Uh…is that something I should worry about?" Kurt asks, pointing back to the man waving away more cars before stooping over a black Lexus. Sebastian parks the car and kills the engine.

"Nope," Sebastian replies, tugging Kurt closer and kissing him. Sebastian's lips are so inviting that Kurt forgets all about surly car attendants and fixates on thoughts of how he can get Sebastian to stay and make-out with him in the front seat of the car.

"You know, I can get used to this," he whispers against Sebastian's mouth.

"Used to what?" Sebastian murmurs.

"Kissing you," Kurt says with a slip of his tongue over Sebastian's lips. "Anytime I want."

A flash of bright light pulls Kurt's focus and his eyes flick over Sebastian's shoulder. The black Lexus rolls past and Kurt finds Carlos's eyes locked on them. Sebastian sees the knit of Kurt's eyebrows and follows the path of his eyes in the reflection of the rearview mirror. He sighs, hooking a finger beneath Kurt's chin and turning his gaze back towards him.

"You know you're the only one who can, right?"

"Can what?" Kurt asks, letting himself relax and be lulled back into the seduction of Sebastian's velvety voice.

"Kiss me."

"Yes," Kurt says with a veiled sigh of relief, "I do. But it's nice to hear."

Sebastian's lips find Kurt's again; a brief pause to steel themselves for the adventure ahead.

"To…be…continued," Sebastian whispers, reaching past Kurt and opening his door.

Kurt stumbles out on the sand, which slips and slides loosely, crunching beneath the thick soles of his Doc Martens (not his favorite pair, scuffed and worn enough that ruining them wouldn't be a tremendous tragedy), and he is immediately swept up in the atmosphere of the activity around him.

"Okay, here are the rules," Sebastian says, draping an arm over Kurt's shoulders, keeping him locked to his side while they head out of the parking lot and down the stretch of beach.

"There are rules?" Kurt asks, dodging a glow-in-the dark football that whizzes by his head a little too close for comfort.

"Yes," Sebastian says sternly, elbowing through a group of half-naked girls that stumble like a giggling, amorphous entity into their path. "Stick close to me."

"Okay," Kurt says with a short bob of his head and an amused smile.

_That's definitely a rule I can follow_, he thinks.

"I'm serious," Sebastian says. "I can't have you wandering off like at the club. There's no way we're getting off this island tonight. I brought everything we're going to need. There's port-a-johns, but don't even think about going to use them alone. A lot of middle-aged men come to these parties, and they're only here for one thing…"

"The same thing the Amish girls were looking for?" Kurt quips back sarcastically, batting his eyelashes with feigned innocence. Fleetingly he wonders if those Amish girls might actually make an appearance, barely recognizable in micro mini-skirts and sheer tops, brightly dyed Crayola-colored hair in edgy, asymmetrical razor cuts.

"I mean it, Kurt." Sebastian stops and steps in front of him to make Kurt see the warning in his eyes. "People have legitimately disappeared from these parties."

"Bas…" Kurt tilts his head, resting his forehead against Sebastian's, "are you worried?"

"Yeah," Sebastian admits, "about me. Your dad's got a shotgun, remember? If I lose you tonight, I might as well drive straight to Mexico, change my name to Rodrigo, and live in a hut on the beach."

Kurt punches Sebastian on the arm, laughing when he zigs to avoid the hit only to bump into the start of a drunken threesome. It takes a minute for Sebastian to convince the enamored trio that no, he isn't interested in making their group a foursome. Kurt is no help whatsoever, smirking behind his hand at Sebastian's attempts to get away. Sebastian finally makes a break for it, grabbing Kurt's hand and tearing down the beach at a half-run, half-walk.

The further down the beach they get, the more lurid and stimulating everything becomes. The lights spattering the crowd sporadically throw every curve and edge into sharp relief, visuals flashing before his eyes, playing with his mind – a glimpse of skin here, a hidden kiss there, two men grinding together - shirtless, sweating, pants pulled down below the curve of their ass, thrusting to the music, lost to the world in favor of their own.

If Kurt believed a word written in the Bible, he could well imagine that this must have been what Sodom and Gomorrah looked like before a wrathful God swept in and destroyed all the fun.

Sebastian pulls up short and Kurt barely stops himself before he barrels into his boyfriend's back and knocks himself on his ass in the sand.

"Are you two gentlemen in the market for any herbal refreshments or party pharmaceuticals?" Kurt hears a gravelly voice from somewhere in the vicinity of Sebastian's left where another small village of tents and a few vehicles is set up in a circle on the harder packed sand.

"Not tonight, thank you," Sebastian says, dismissing the voice and continuing on. Kurt sees an opportunity. He screws up his courage and steps out from behind Sebastian into the ambient firelight.

"Now wait a second, Bas," Kurt says. He approaches the man, taking one step before Sebastian grabs Kurt's arm and stops him. "Let's hear what he has for sale."

Kurt gives Sebastian a side-long look, and sees his boyfriend staring at him with dark eyes; eyes that look at him as if Sebastian is seeing him for the first time – surprised and startled, concerned but brimming with unchecked desire. Kurt doesn't want to pull himself away from that look, which touches him all over like hundreds of fingers of fire, but the man in front of them is clearing his throat, anxious to make a sale. Kurt turns back to the man who's rolling on the balls of his bare feet, tugging at denim shorts pulled down low to reveal more than a sliver of diamond patterned boxers. Thick, brown dreads brush his naked, more-burned-than-tanned shoulders, and when he smiles Kurt sees his bottom row of front teeth capped with faux gold.

"We've got some twomp sacks of chronic," the man says with a strange look of pride. "The really good stuff, because if you haven't noticed it's smelling a little brown out here."

The man waves a hand in front of his nose and Sebastian smirks. Kurt, on the other hand, is completely lost seven words into the conversation. Twomp? Brown? It sounded like English; it should make sense, but…

"We've also got some Adderall, some ecstasy, and over at my 4Runner we be steeping some jimson tea."

"Jimson?" Sebastian frowns. "Isn't that risky with the strobe lights this close to the water?"

"Don't be buggin', friend," the man says, waving his hands in a 'calm down' gesture, "we got plenty of guys keeping an eye on the surf and I'm sure a big, strong man like you can keep your boyfriend from wandering off into the water."

Kurt snaps his head back to completely face Sebastian, recalling the mention of people disappearing at these parties. Sebastian observes Kurt's distress with a tiny, fond smile, and comes to his rescue.

"Not tonight, man," Sebastian says, coming up behind Kurt, wrapping his arms around his torso and holding him close, "but thanks."

The man reaches out a hand in their direction, Kurt assumes for a shake. Then Sebastian reaches out his hand and they exchange some kind of fist bump handshake that looks so intricately choreographed that Kurt wonders where exactly they would have learned such a thing, let alone know that this is the time to use it.

"Hey, that's cool," the man says, backing away toward his camp. "But if you lovely young men change your minds, hit me up. I'm right back here in…" the man strikes a dramatic pose, pointing with both index fingers to the ring of tents surrounding a growing orange fire behind him, "Xanadu!"

"So I guess that makes you Kubla Khan," Kurt says, stepping back with the momentum of Sebastian's body as he leads him away.

"Right on!" the man crows, bounding off the way he came. Kurt shakes his head, not convinced the man understood the reference.

They walk off a ways in silence, Sebastian sticking close to Kurt's back, heading to an area where the bandstands thin out, the dancers aren't quite as rowdy or X-rated, and the air smells cooler and fresher.

"Would you actually…" Sebastian starts, pausing to give Kurt a chance to fill in the rest.

"I was thinking about it at that pool party you guys had, and…well, I can't say that I'm eager to start a drug habit or anything," Kurt admits, "but I did have a thought about possibly trying something…with you." Kurt peeks at Sebastian over his shoulder, preparing to be judged. "I trust you to keep me safe."

Sebastian nods, contemplative, stopping between two groups of dancers in a spot where the spinning, multicolored lights aren't quite as harsh, and the music starts out low and mellow, more tribal than pop, with a persistent, almost animalistic beat that Kurt can feel resonating in his chest.

"This is not the time or place for experimenting," Sebastian says, "but we can discuss it…if you really want." Sebastian drops a kiss onto the crown of Kurt's head; simple, uncomplicated. "Besides, I'm pretty sure you're going to get some kind of contact high with the amount of smoke around here. At least until the ocean breeze kicks in."

Kurt takes in a deep breath of air, inhaling through his nose until he can feel the chill in his sinuses right behind his eyes, and his head spins. Only then does he realize that what he had been breathing as they walked through the crowd probably couldn't be considered actual oxygen. He looks back down the beach at the haze of questionable smoke hanging in the air and compares it to where they have stopped, his body subconsciously swaying to the beat of the rumbling drums, the undercurrent of sound vibrating along the sand. Sebastian wasn't dragging Kurt down the beach for his own enjoyment; he sought out this spot specifically. Not as many people chose to hang out here; there was less oppressive, overlapping noise, and the breeze coming in off the water was clearer, not quite as mind-altering.

Sebastian was taking care of Kurt again, and damn it if that didn't make Kurt want Sebastian more.

Kurt layers his arms over Sebastian's as they move, neither of them fighting to lead, letting the pulsations beneath their feet carry them along. Maybe their slow back and forth shuffling doesn't match the mood of the song playing, but it suits them and their need to be close, connected.

"I was thinking about the last time we went out dancing…" Kurt rolls his head on Sebastian's shoulder to get a better look at his boyfriend's face. "You got into that fight with Maxwell in the bathroom…"

Sebastian tenses at the mention of the man's name.

"Yeah." His voice tightens around the short, clipped word.

"He asked me what you call me and you said, 'I call him mine'," Kurt finishes. "Do you remember?"

"Yeah."

"Well," Kurt says with a reassuring smile, "now I _am_ yours."

Sebastian ducks his head, hiding flushed cheeks and a bashful smile.

"Are you?" Sebastian asks, and Kurt knows that he needs to hear the words out loud.

"Yes," Kurt says. "I think, without knowing it, I've been yours for a while."

Kurt turns in Sebastian's arms and melts further into his embrace. Sebastian's hands stroke Kurt's spine, starting from his neck, trailing lightly over curves and ridges, massaging circles into Kurt's tense muscles along the way. Kurt's inhibitions dissolve with every caress. He takes his cue from Sebastian and lets his hands explore up the expanse of Sebastian's muscular back, kneading over his shoulders and making the return trip to his waist, but he doesn't stop there. He sneaks his fingers boldly beneath the waistband of Sebastian's jeans, brushing the curve of his hips, traveling further and further each time. Sebastian hums against Kurt's temple as long fingers pass over smooth skin.

Kurt's mouth goes dry as he longs to act more daring, giving over to the notions that surge and swell within him, the idea that perfect will come in time, but now can be a different kind of perfect.

They don't have to go all the way, but maybe Sebastian would agree to something in between.

He slides his hands completely into Sebastian's jeans, beneath his briefs, grabbing hold of his ass and drawing him close, letting Sebastian feel how much this collision of their multi-faceted affections turns him on.

Sebastian's whole body shudders, a bitten-off moan slipping past his lips. He steps back, and Kurt's hands slip out of his jeans.

"Kurt," Sebastian stutters. "Kurt, I…"

"Sebastian," Kurt interrupts, holding on to what's left of his daring to say what he needs to say. "I feel like we're coming together inch by inch, but I still have fifty more feet to go." Kurt looks into Sebastian's eyes, dark with want of his own but harboring so much despair; a broken past, Kurt suspects, that was never truly repaired. "I know you want perfect, and I absolutely agree. I want perfect, too, but I also want to know that you…_want_ me."

"Kurt, who wouldn't want you?" Sebastian asks.

Through the swirl and sputter of chaotic lights, Kurt's icy eyes glare pointedly at him.

"Let me rephrase that," Sebastian back tracks. "What sane, rational, mentally competent human being wouldn't want you?"

"So, then maybe…"

"Well, what did you want?" Sebastian's voice shakes, so adorably, painfully anxious that Kurt contemplates taking it back. He can wait. He can more than wait.

Then Sebastian cradles Kurt's body in his arms, nuzzling his neck as he lays him down on his back on the sand, and all thoughts of waiting fly to greener pastures.

"I guess that depends on what you're willing to give," Kurt murmurs, swallowing hard when Sebastian runs the back of his hand down his face, smoothing over his cheek.

"Oh, Kurt," Sebastian mutters, "you have no idea."

Sebastian closes in on him with the lightest kiss, feather soft, a whisper grazing over Kurt's lips and down his chin. Kurt reaches trembling hands around Sebastian's back, but Sebastian captures his wrists, pushing his arms back and trapping them to the ground. A thrill courses through Kurt's body when Sebastian's lips suck tenderly down to the hollow of his neck. Kurt's eyelids close when the sucks turn into laps of his tongue against Kurt's skin, and Kurt sinks into himself, absorbing, surrendering when Sebastian undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, pushing the material aside and kissing the flesh underneath.

The world continues to spin around them – lights slicing the night sky, music pounding in discordant rhythms, faceless strangers laughing and screaming and singing drunkenly, as if in praise of the night; but for Kurt time stops. They could be lying on the cool sand of the beach, or on the comfortable bed back at the house. It doesn't matter as long as Sebastian is there with him, touching and kissing, lips pushing and pulling at his skin, tongue outlining the cut of his muscles from his pecs to his abs, revealed in sections, one button at a time.

As much as Kurt enjoys this, finally getting a taste of the intimacy he so intensely craves, he recognizes that another change has taken place, having gone virtually unnoticed till this moment. Sebastian has gotten under Kurt's skin, inside his blood, and that's where he wants Sebastian to stay - every sigh, every kiss, every conversation, every revelation bringing Sebastian dangerously close to Kurt's mending heart.

The night wears on, one touch blurring into the next, one more kiss, one more breath against Kurt's skin. Sebastian rests over him, his hard length brushing against Kurt's, both boys gasping and moaning at the scintillating sensation. Sebastian's body begins to move, not demanding, not expecting anything in return, bending to the way Kurt's body bows; the way he arches his back up, seeking friction, seeking Sebastian's body to keep him grounded.

Sebastian's mouth finds Kurt's again, and he murmurs between kisses, a constant, unrelenting stream of casual and indecipherable confessions, drawn out curses, but mostly his name, tumbling from Sebastian's lips, cascading like a waterfall.

Kurt writhes in the sand, the energy flowing between them crackling and popping like fireworks, the sound echoing in his ears from that last fourth of July when he succeeded in convincing himself that a kiss was simply a kiss.

He feels himself cumming, his body exploding with white heat, piercing through him, pinpoints of starlight bursting behind his eyelids. It's not tame or unyielding. It ignites every piece of him and leaves him to smolder.

Who knew that heaven could be found on a strip of sand on the Atlantic Coast?

He hears Sebastian groan, his body rigid and trembling, Kurt's name the last coherent word that crosses his lips before he collapses, bracing himself with his elbows in the sand to keep from crushing Kurt beneath him.

"Was that anything…like you had in mind?" Sebastian pants, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head.

Time starts again, kicked into action by the sound of Sebastian's voice, but Kurt doesn't react right away. He's stunned and silent, only vaguely aware when Sebastian rolls off his body and curls up beside him, folding him in his arms, battling the quaking of his limbs, cold and fatigue sending tremors through them.

"No." Kurt rolls his head back and forth, staring at the sky while the last point of light extinguishes itself and dissolves away so he can see Sebastian with his vision unmuddied. "It was better. Much, much better."

Spent. It's such a lame, overused, dime-store romance novel term but it fits. He's finished; elated but he has nothing left to give, not right away. So he'll lie on the beach in Sebastian's embrace and recharge. Kurt had spent most of the summer treading through this abyss, keeping himself buoyed safely at the surface, playing at the idea of there being something more when he was rationally sure that more didn't exist.

But there it is; Kurt can feel the magnitude of it crashing in on him, filling up the empty spaces, dragging him under to a place where he's sure that he's never been more vulnerable, and now that he's here he has nothing and everything to fear.

He won't say it out loud.

In fact, he may not admit it to himself again after this; not for a while.

This, apparently, is what it means to fall in love with Sebastian Smythe.


	7. ACITW AU CH25A

**A/N:** _**Okay, this chapter is becoming tremendously long. There's a lot to it. This is the first part, and the second part is right on its heels (tonight or tomorrow). Drop me a line and let me know how you think it's going so far.**_

At first, Kurt doesn't know exactly what wakes him: the chill air coming in off the ocean, the low murmur of the party dying down, or the way Sebastian pulls him closer and holds him tight, not necessarily needing his warmth, though that very well may be, but needing _him_, needing Kurt and the security of Kurt's body pressed against his so that he knows, even in sleep, that Kurt is there. Kurt blinks his eyes open, dry from the sand and the salty sea air, grit irritating his corneas until they burn and start to water. He lifts his head slightly and sweeps his eyes down the beach. The bandstands are vacant, some of them even packed up and lying in folded pieces on the sand, but there's still music in the air, and Kurt raises his head a little higher in search of it. Near to where they are lying in the sand, a small tent city has been erected. A group of men sit around the comforting glow of a campfire, arms and blankets wrapped around one another, swaying and singing while one man among them strums a guitar. Kurt only catches the occasional lyric rising from the congregation, but he can tell that it's not a pop song they're singing, but a hymn - one in particular that he knows. He's heard Mercedes sing it before; he just can't quite recall the name of it.

The music wafts over them, soft and soothingly familiar, but those strains aren't the lure that's pulling him prematurely from his sleep.

It's Sebastian, lying snuggled up behind him.

Complex, amazing, unexpectedly wonderful Sebastian.

Sebastian and his cynical attitude.

Sebastian and his infinite surprises.

Sebastian and the selfless way he has started to show Kurt how much he actually cares.

Sebastian and his gorgeous body that has a way of making Kurt feel things he never has before. Not with Blaine. Not with anybody. And not simply in a shallow aesthetic way, but with his warmth when he holds Kurt in his arms, with his hands that always seem to find Kurt's hands without having to look for them, in the way their bodies nest against each other when they sleep, or the way they line up together almost perfectly. It's a connection, another aspect that Kurt has begun to rely on. If he reaches out a hand, Sebastian will take it. If Kurt wraps his arms around Sebastian's waist, Sebastian will reciprocate. It's like every moment they're together, they're dancing, except this time neither of them is fighting to take the lead.

Kurt knows that his hair must be full of sand, that his clothes are probably ruined, and somewhere in his pants cum has dried on his skin, but he doesn't care. For once he doesn't give a damn because Sebastian is there, and Kurt wants him. He wants to feel and touch and kiss and be felt and touched and kissed. Last night, Sebastian opened a door, and now Kurt wants to push it open farther.

Kurt turns in Sebastian's arms, and using his own body wrapped within his boyfriend's embrace as leverage he rolls a still sleeping Sebastian onto his back; then climbs on top of him, straddling his hips. He looks down at Sebastian's face, calm and peaceful, young and careless, no lines of worry, no walls erected. Kurt frowns slightly at Sebastian's perfectly mussed bed head, roguishly handsome even when matted and clumped with sand, and shakes his head in mock disgust. Everything about Sebastian's appearance is so effortless. It had taken Sebastian only thirty minutes to get ready for the evening, whereas Kurt had taken more than an hour, and now look at the two of them. Equally disheveled and sleeping on the beach. The only difference is Sebastian still manages to look like a Versace model. How can one boy be so lucky? A grin slowly spreads on Sebastian's lips, even in sleep. It starts with a slight curl on the left-hand side of his mouth, which is mirrored a second later on the right. The resulting smile is lopsided and adorable, and Kurt can't help himself. He leans over and kisses him.

Kurt feels Sebastian stirring, dry lips moving against his mouth, trying to form words. Sebastian's eyelids flutter open, stopping the kiss only a second to get his bearings and erase his confusion, and then Sebastian is kissing him back, threading fingers through Kurt's sand-dusted hair, a hand finding the small of his back and pulling him down close.

"Thank goodness," Sebastian murmurs against Kurt's lips, not breaking away for even a moment to speak. "I thought last night might have been a dream."

"It wasn't," Kurt says, rubbing the tip of his nose against Sebastian's nose, smiling when Sebastian's mouth chases his for another kiss. "It's me. I'm here."

Sebastian stops the chase, his lips twisting into a fond smile.

"So you keep telling me," he says.

"That's because it's true," Kurt says, quietly but emphatically, "and maybe if I say it enough you won't have a reason to worry."

"I'm not worried," Sebastian replies, and though his smile remains, Kurt can hear a twinge of uncertainty in his voice – not much, barely a touch, but it's there nonetheless. Kurt wants to remove it - wants to scratch it out of Sebastian's mind. He wants to be more for Sebastian, the way Sebastian has become more for him.

Kurt closes the space between them, kissing Sebastian gently, slowly exploring with his lips and the tip of his tongue around the contours of Sebastian's mouth. He feels Sebastian relax beneath him, open up for him. Sebastian moans into Kurt's mouth, and the sound, vibrating against his tongue and slipping down his throat, is intoxicating. One more moan and Kurt feels himself becoming drunk off of it. Sebastian wraps strong arms around him, and in his own subtle way he tries to take control. He tilts to the side, preparing to roll them over and switch their positions.

Kurt presses the flat of his palms against Sebastian's shoulders and pushes him back down onto the sand, pulling away to enjoy the full effect of the startled expression on Sebastian's face. Sebastian stares back, his eyes darkening from every kiss, his lips pursed, quietly asking for more. He shakes his head and those beckoning lips curl into the sly grin Kurt loves.

"What's gotten into you, Hummel?" Sebastian asks, running his hands up and down Kurt's back, bringing them boldly down over the swell of Kurt's ass before returning up the length of Kurt's spine. Well, Kurt would have considered it bold a month or so ago, but not now that they're together. Not now when Kurt is so ready to give himself over to everything that is Sebastian Smythe.

Not now when he thinks he might be…

Kurt stops himself.

He's not ready to admit that again.

"I think it's the food," Kurt teases, coming up with a lame joke as opposed to surrendering to an awkward and far too revealing silence. Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"What can I say?" Kurt jumps to his own defense. "I'm a sucker for a man that cooks."

"Well, you know…" Sebastian runs his hands down Kurt's thighs, massaging the muscles with firm fingers, "they say that clams and leeks are aphrodisiacs."

Kurt's face goes blank for a second, and then a simmer of indignation ignites in his eyes. He sits up straight, putting his hands on his hips, and for a moment Sebastian can't tell if Kurt's being overly dramatic or if he's truly offended.

"So, is that why you dragged me out to those Godforsaken mud flats and got me filthy? Because you need an aphrodisiac to be with me?"

Sebastian sighs heavily. He reaches for Kurt's arms, to tug Kurt back down on top of him, but Kurt sits up straight and stolid, leaning away from Sebastian's hands and refusing to be moved. Sebastian gives in and sits up, groaning with the effort of forcing his stiff muscles to move and grabs Kurt around the waist before he can object. Sebastian holds his boyfriend tight in his lap as Kurt struggles to put some distance between them. They sit nose to nose, with Sebastian's hand at the back of Kurt's head, keeping their gazes locked together.

"No," Sebastian says softly, "I dragged you out there and got you filthy because I thought it would be hilarious...and I was right."

Kurt, obviously anticipating a wholly different answer, gasps and turns away, but Sebastian laughs, trailing kisses down his neck, trying to find that one secret spot that will make Kurt stop struggling and simply melt.

"Besides, I'm pretty sure _you're_ an aphrodisiac," Sebastian confesses, trailing open-mouthed kisses up the column of Kurt's neck back up to his chin. "I don't need anything to make me want to be with you. Dammit, I get hot just being around you. I've wanted this for so lo-…"

Sebastian freezes, stopping mid-speech, holding Kurt in his arms but otherwise not moving. Kurt feels the words absorb through his skin where Sebastian's lips stay hovered against his pulse. His heart takes off beating like a gunshot in his chest, threatening to break free and ricochet around his ribcage any second. He snaps his head to look at Sebastian, but Sebastian pinches his lips together tight, snuffing out yet another confession.

Kurt is frozen, too, but deep inside he's dying, burning with curiosity, another piece of the puzzle snatched away when it was so close, and this one could have been the key to unlocking the mysterious Sebastian Smythe and all his hidden motives.

The longer they sit petrified in the sand, the farther away the moment slips, and Kurt recognizes the point when it becomes completely irretrievable.

Kurt lets it go, heartbroken at the loss but willing to concede defeat for now.

He decides to try a different tactic.

Eyes still locked on Sebastian's gaze, he gently pushes his boyfriend back down onto the sand, noting the way Sebastian's mouth twitches in the corners when Kurt takes control, the way he fights the urge to kiss him and instead waits to see what Kurt is going to do. Kurt appreciates that Sebastian is willing to wait for him. That moment of submission bred from self-control really turns Kurt on.

Kurt lays his body over Sebastian's in the same way Sebastian did hours before and starts to move, giving himself a moment to absorb the look of abandon and anguish coloring Sebastian's face before he starts to kiss him again.

Kurt is trying his hand at seduction, at being sexy, so that these concepts will become synonymous with him every time Sebastian lays eyes on him. Kurt would do anything, pay almost any price to see himself through Sebastian's eyes, but since he can't, he decides to craft that image for himself. Mind over matter. If he sees himself as an erotic and enticing creature, he'll become erotic and enticing.

Sebastian opens his legs wide for Kurt, bending them up at the knees to cage him in. Kurt's movements over Sebastian's body are slow and taunting, a taste of what he has in store when Sebastian finally decides to take things further.

From the desperate whimpers Kurt can hear escaping the back of Sebastian's throat, the low moans every move elicits, Kurt becomes more confident that his plan is working. Sebastian's body follows his, his erection growing as Kurt brushes against it, filling Kurt with a feeling of tremendous power.

There's only one problem, a problem that becomes more imminent as his own erection starts to become harder and press against his jeans.

The sand. It's everywhere. It's crept into his pants and adhered to his skin, making every undulation feel like he's rutting against sand paper. He tries not to care. He pushes it as far out of his mind as he can, but the stinging sensation against his sensitive skin tells him that he's rubbing himself raw. He stifles every wince, gritting his teeth between kisses. He masks his pained whimpers with moans. Sebastian tightens his grip on Kurt's hips, and Kurt can feel how close he is by the way he rises up to meet every thrust. He whispers Kurt's name after every brush, and Kurt, begging the fates above for Sebastian to cum, to come undone the way he did before with Kurt's name tumbling from his lips, goes for broke. He rolls his hips down harder, but it's too much for his irritated skin, and without meaning to, he hisses.

Sebastian's body goes still beneath him, and Kurt's entire ego deflates.

"Let me guess," Sebastian says, breathless and with a hint of sarcasm (and possibly a shadow of what might be disappointment), "sand in your crotch?"

Kurt drops his head to Sebastian's shoulder, unable to look into his lust-blown green eyes while he admits to his failure. He nods.

"I told you that sand would become a way of life."

"Yeah," Kurt mumbles into Sebastian's shoulder. "Yeah, I remember."

Kurt braces himself, preparing for whatever jeer Sebastian is about to make. Kurt would rather he didn't, not about this, but he doesn't mind, either. He reminds himself that he wants Sebastian the way he is, snarky remarks and all. Besides, Kurt can see the humor in this situation as much as the next guy. Hell, if their positions had been reversed, he would probably have the time of his life ribbing Sebastian for being caught with his dick covered in sand.

Sebastian doesn't comment right away, and Kurt is eaten away by the suspense. The ego is such a fragile thing, and Kurt's is about to be obliterated. He figures by the measure of Sebastian's lengthy silence that whatever he's planning to say will completely hit it out of the ball park.

"We could go skinny dipping," Sebastian suggests. "Rinse off this fucking sand."

Kurt's head pops up from Sebastian's shoulder. He waits for the other shoe to drop, for the real jabs to begin, but when Sebastian doesn't say anything else, Kurt eyes him warily.

"That's it?" Kurt asks, proceeding with caution out of morbid curiosity even though he knows he should probably keep his mouth shut. "That's all you're going to say?"

"What would you like me to say?" Sebastian says with a knowing wink. "I can't really make fun of you for having sand down your pants when it's happened to me more than once."

Sebastian sits up and deposits Kurt undignified into the sand. Kurt watches Sebastian walk off a distance towards the water, unbuttoning his shirts as he goes, and that's when the weight of Sebastian's suggestion drops on him.

"Skinny…dipping?" Kurt repeats, calling after him. "Wait! As in…" His words drift away with the ocean breeze, the music, the smell of smoke, and everything else ephemeral around them as he stares, lost in thought, mesmerized by the image of Sebastian peeling off his shirt, the unintentionally arousing way he lets the material slip off his shoulders and down his tan arms, but then he comes back to himself when he remembers that he should be doing the same. He hedges, biding his time to prolong the agony as long as possible. "As in, take off our clothes and swim in the ocean…naked?"

"Yeah, well that's usually how it's done," Sebastian laughs, throwing his shirt over one shoulder and letting it hang there while he bends down to remove his shoes and socks. "What's the big deal, Hummel? I've heard you've done it before."

Yeah, Kurt has done it before, in a problematic attempt at doing something racy and spontaneous that resulted in a painful and humiliating bee sting on his ass. Kurt had originally put 'skinny dipping' on his bucket list because he thought it might spice up his and Blaine's relationship to do something taboo. He wanted to show his boyfriend that he was a risk taker - that he was willing and ready to venture outside of his safe little world. As it turned out, looking was the only taboo they really indulged in that day; there was more giggling than kissing or touching going on in that secluded lake. Kurt had tried his best to impress Blaine, to be graceful and alluring, but he wasn't quite as comfortable with his naked body in public as he wanted to be. All of his endeavors to channel his inner Esther Williams failed when he slipped on a wet patch of grass and landed on his ass on top of an unsuspecting bumble bee.

Not only did he leave the lake that day thoroughly red-faced with a bee-sized chink in his self-esteem, but he was also a murderer.

Kurt definitely gives himself credit for being a much different person than the one who got stung on the ass that day. He's matured, become less vain, but some of his old insecurities still remain. When he looks at himself in the mirror there are a few 'problem areas' he's not proud of, places that are softer than he would ultimately like, which he has learned to strategically camouflage with a well-placed belt or a deceptively tailored shirt.

Kurt admires Sebastian's complete and utter confidence as he strips off his socks and starts on his pants. Sebastian's eyes flick up and he notices Kurt sitting in the sand where he left him, watching him undress with what Kurt imagines to be an emotional hodgepodge of mostly horror and awe on his drawn face.

"You don't have to worry about any of those drugged out hipsters watching us," Sebastian reassures him, "and even if they do, I doubt if they'll remember us by morning."

Kurt nods his head, giving the impression that Sebastian's words have assuaged all his fears, but it's not the other people on the beach that Kurt's worried about seeing him naked. It's Sebastian. Sebastian, physically, is on a whole other level than most boys their age, far surpassing Kurt. Kurt tries to comfort himself that Sebastian has already seen him in only his underwear, and from what Kurt remembers of that experience Sebastian seemed to like what he saw. On another occasion, Sebastian made mention of Kurt being 'all man'…despite his wardrobe, of course. But that was before - before this, before everything.

Practically glued to the sand beneath him, Kurt has to laugh at the irony of the situation. He wants Sebastian so badly, but how ready is he to move forward if he can't even get naked in front of him?

Kurt stands up and starts unbuttoning his shirt, determined to get over this hurdle. By the time Sebastian has stripped down to his briefs, Kurt is nearly still clothed, the only change being that his button-down shirt hangs open with the tails untucked.

Sebastian's sly grin morphs into a look of extreme confusion as he regards Kurt from head to toe.

"Why don't we go down closer to the water and away from the firelight?" Sebastian suggests, trying to suss out the cause of Kurt's distress. "The shadows are darker down there. You don't have to worry about anyone peeping on you."

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, making his way down the sandy slope to where the light from the fire barely reaches the water. They hide among the shadows and finish disrobing by one of the dismantled bandstands.

"Be careful with that bandage on your leg," Sebastian reminds him. "Don't tear it off when you take off your pants."

Sebastian wastes no time at all stripping off his underwear and adding it to the pile of his carefully folded clothes. Kurt sees the movement but he doesn't look. He finds himself at war with his raw, unabashed desire to peek, and the social constraints of politely keeping his eyes to himself. He figures he'll casually divert his eyes when the time comes, but for now he's completely submersed in the task of removing his clothes and not allowing his mounting inner anxiety to cause him to burst into flames. He feels his cheeks heat up while he takes off his jeans, bending at the waist and balancing precariously on one foot, then the other, so as not to drag his jeans through the wet sand. He feels himself tilt, his equilibrium jolt and he straightens up quickly to avoid collapsing in the sand.

That's when he gets his first view of Sebastian, his skin illuminated by the moonlight and highlighted by the dim firelight all around, every inch of his glorious body on display. He watches Kurt with eyes unburdened by embarrassment or shame. Kurt doesn't know what to do, how to act casually in the presence of this man who, with one look, has stolen his breath completely away.

Every dream he has ever had, every mental image he has conjured of what Sebastian might look like naked, pales drastically in comparison to the real thing. Kurt might have to force himself to believe in some kind of deity, if only temporarily, so he has someone to thank for the vision in front of him.

Kurt makes a private vow not to gawk, not to stare.

Sebastian's eyes suddenly go dark, sparkling in the sparse light, and Kurt knows that, oh holy gay hell, regardless of his vow, he's staring.

Sebastian smirks familiarly.

"You're pretty jaw-dropping yourself there, princess."

Kurt looks down the length of his body, and then at the pair of jeans dangling from his outstretched hand. He pulls his thoughts away from the stunning image of Sebastian's naked body long enough to become aware of the fact that he's completely naked as well, having fumbled his jeans in the panic of rescuing himself from a cringe-worthy fall.

As mortifying as being suddenly naked is, it's the nickname that hits him like a sucker punch to the gut. He can usually ignore it, especially when it comes from Sebastian. Sometimes it even sounds endearing. On the times that it doesn't, he's found ways to make himself immune, but right now it's a reminder of his faults, his insecurities laid bare.

"Can you…just not…call me 'princess'?" Kurt stumbles through the request, the arm with the hand strangling his jeans winding subconsciously around his torso. "Not right now?"

Kurt's eyes focus on the water, moving in shallow waves over the sand, so he doesn't see Sebastian approach him. He doesn't see the expression that bounces between hungry to sympathetic and back again on Sebastian's face as he appraises his boyfriend's body. Sebastian takes Kurt's hand and pulls his arm down along with it, carefully unwinding the cocoon of limbs that Kurt constructed around his exposed body.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian says. The word sounds so foreign coming from Sebastian's mouth that Kurt is almost tempted to ask him to repeat it. "You're right. You're not a princess. You are a man…a gorgeous man. Every inch of you…" Sebastian pauses a moment, letting his eyes blaze a path from Kurt's hair to his jawline, down his neck and shoulders, over his chest to his hips and legs. When Sebastian's gaze returns to Kurt's eyes he leans forward and presses their foreheads together, "… and don't let anyone convince you otherwise."

Kurt's mouth drops slightly, and Sebastian swoops in. He gathers Kurt up in his arms and kisses his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth. Kurt lets any hint of fear or embarrassment bleed away into that kiss. He wraps his arms around Sebastian's body, nearly dropping his precious jeans into the water. This kiss is different, and Kurt wants to drown in the sensation of kissing Sebastian with every sinful inch of naked skin pressed hotly against his own – no barriers, no boundaries, no walls. With Sebastian bending him steadily backward to deepen the kiss, Kurt can feel everything. He feels the bulge of Sebastian's biceps as his arms cradle Kurt securely. He feels Sebastian's abs slide along his stomach as he leans over him. He feels the hair on Sebastian's legs brushing against his own, mildly ticklish but sending sparks over his skin everywhere they touch.

He feels Sebastian's length, hard and rising against his leg, meeting his own, sliding sensually beside it. Sebastian moves, pistoning in such a way that Kurt's knees go weak. There's no pain, no sting from the sand against his raw skin, only pure pleasure, and he breaks away from Sebastian's kiss to cry out into the night.

"Ungh, Sebastian!" he moans, gripping hard to Sebastian's shoulders.

"Oh, God! Kurt," Sebastian moans in response, moving again, his lips latching on to the skin of Kurt's neck and sucking sensually.

"Oh…" Kurt moans, squeezing his eyes shut, giving in to Sebastian and all the ways he can make him feel alive.

Unbeknownst to them, a few of the men from the nearby tent city decide to take a cue from them and start tearing off their clothes, tossing them willy-nilly into the sand, and racing for the water. The sudden onslaught of cheering voices and splashing water breaks the spell of Sebastian's kiss, especially when a gush of salt water hits Kurt in the back.

"Holy shit, that's cold!" Kurt screeches into Sebastian's ear, and Sebastian groans in defeat when he feels his erection die. He laughs mirthlessly, glaring daggers at the drunken frolickers stumbling their way through the waves, kicking up more sand than water as they playfully wrestle amid the shallow swells.

Kurt turns his eyes in the direction that Sebastian's death glare is aimed and sees another spray of water headed their way, this one threatening to decimate his jeans. He spins around, throwing Sebastian off-kilter, almost dragging them both into the water.

Sebastian eyes Kurt's hand locked around the jeans, knuckles going white as he holds them high above his head. He rolls his eyes.

"I'm on it," he murmurs, taking the jeans out of Kurt's hand.

He folds Kurt's jeans, and then takes it upon himself to wrap his own clothes around the rest of Kurt's clothes to keep them safe. He tucks the bundle between the wooden slats of one of the more secluded bandstands to hide them.

Kurt starts off into the ocean alone, needing the frigid water swirling around his ankles to settle his body down. He felt the point when Sebastian's hard-on died, and with his own erection long gone, he can't handle thinking about almost cumming naked in Sebastian's arms. It's just too much right now.

He takes a few steps further out, until the sea foam bathes his knees, when a hand on his shoulder stops him.

"You don't want to go too far," Sebastian warns, taking Kurt's hand and lacing their fingers together. "The waves here move parallel to the shore. You don't want to get swept away."

Kurt holds Sebastian's hand tight, knowing it's too late. He's already been swept away.


	8. ACITW AU CH25B

**A/N:** _I promised a second part soon, and here it is. I hope you all enjoy it. I toyed a little with hints of Sebastian's POV. (For those of you who were confused by my teasers, this is the chapter with the D&D conversation and the Mustang make-out ;) )_

Step by step Sebastian draws Kurt into the water, picking his way around the soft, shifting sand, and testing the ground first before signaling for Kurt to follow. Every so often he looks back and smiles encouragingly, tempting Kurt with the lure of his eyes, green irises growing darker as the moonlight passes over them. Sebastian takes them out a distance from the shore - far enough to be free of the roaming band of imbeciles, stopping where the swells reach no higher than their waists. Reluctant to release his hold on Kurt's hand, Sebastian keeps their fingers laced together as he crouches down and dips below the water's surface, running the fingers of his free hand through his hair to loosen the sand. Sebastian emerges with a wicked smile on his lips and he shakes his head like a dog, drizzling Kurt with water. Kurt laughs, turning his head to avoid the spray. He escapes by ducking down below the water, rinsing the sand from his body and hair. He feels fingers that aren't his own card through his hair, working out the knots and the mats, fingertips massaging his scalp and scrubbing away the sand.

Sebastian's hand in Kurt's hair is cathartic; it frees Kurt of more than simply the bothersome sand lodged in places he'd rather not mention. That's because everything about Sebastian is safe. Kurt doesn't always have to be the adult; he doesn't always have to be the one in charge and in control. Kurt could relax in the water and let Sebastian touch him like that forever, but his oxygen deprived lungs disagree and he breaks through the surface of the water, sucking in a deep breath.

"I was getting nervous there for a second," Sebastian says, releasing Kurt's hand so he can better rub the water from his eyes. "We breathe air, you know, babe, not water."

"I know…" Kurt coughs as he takes another breath, "but I didn't want you to stop. You're too good at that."

"I'm not _all_ good, you know." Sebastian winds his arms back around Kurt's body and presses against him.

"I know," Kurt whispers, resting his head against his boyfriend's shoulder, hugging Sebastian back, "and I wouldn't want you any other way."

The sea nettle sting burns beneath his bandage, but Kurt finds it easy to ignore with Sebastian's arms wrapped protectively around him. Kurt can get addicted to being held like this, naked beneath the moonlight. He leans back and stretches his neck to accommodate Sebastian's lips, their heat welcome against his chilled, wet skin. The water circles them, a conduit between their bodies. Here in Sebastian's arms, Kurt feels buoyant, light. The water pulls at him but Sebastian is his anchor. The ocean is a formidable force of nature but Kurt has nothing to fear. He's safe as long as he's in Sebastian's arms.

"I think that skinny dipping implies something wholly different than what we're doing," Kurt says offhandedly, bringing a hand up behind Sebastian's head and playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

"Do you want me to let you go so you can swim?" Sebastian asks, latching onto the juncture between Kurt's neck and his shoulder, and sucking hard.

"Mmm," Kurt moans, his eyes rolling behind his eyelids as they flutter shut, "no…uh…merely making an observation."

Sebastian chuckles into Kurt's skin. Another swell passes by, the cold water flowing around them and between them, and Kurt trembles in Sebastian's arms.

"You're shivering," Sebastian whispers in Kurt's ear.

"Yes," Kurt replies, his teeth knocking together uncontrollably, "I am, but I like it."

"Okay, you like to shiver…" Sebastian runs his tongue up Kurt's neck slowly, stopping at his ear. He licks around the shell, holding Kurt against his body to enjoy the way he trembles at the touch. Kurt grips onto Sebastian's arms, nails almost digging in, but not out of a fear of falling. He knows Sebastian would never let him go. He holds on because he needs to hold on. He needs this constant reminder that all of this is real. Kurt's broken heart from months ago is now a fully functioning muscle, rapidly on the mend but already stronger than before. Sebastian straightens and looks into Kurt's eyes, raising a hand to his pale cheek and brushing away a few water droplets sticking to his skin. "We're still getting out before you freeze to death."

Kurt drops his head and whimpers, hesitant to leave even if he _is_ shivering down to his bones because the water that surrounds them is also connecting them. As long as it's there, they'll stand close together, sharing what's left of the warmth on their skin.

"How about this," Sebastian offers, crooking a finger beneath Kurt's chin and raising his head up, bringing his blue eyes back into view, "we go back to the car and I'll warm you up."

Kurt's teeth chatter so rapidly he can barely speak, so he nods. Sebastian leans in for one last kiss - a kiss that fills Kurt with more than just heat, a kiss that does much more than simply mend the gaps. Beneath the moonlight, with the push and pull of the ocean swaying around them and Sebastian holding him safe and secure against his skin, it's a kiss that Kurt knows he'll be thinking about long after this night is over.

The swells have gotten stronger and Sebastian helps Kurt from the water, keeping an arm locked around Kurt's waist. Kurt shivers in earnest now, limping when the sting on his leg continues to burn despite the numbing effects of the cold water. He hisses with the pain but he's relieved, at least, that the sand situation has greatly improved. The beach seems much calmer now than when they left it. The campfire it still lit but the music and the singing are gone, and Kurt notices that the other group of skinny dippers who had braved the frigid ocean along with them have long since vacated the water and returned to their tents.

Kurt looks forward to the peace of not having to deal with people, and he's sure Sebastian would concur. Everyone they've spoken to so far has been nice (with maybe the exception of Carlos), but everyone's constant enthusiasm and energy (probably fueled by drugs and hormones) has become exasperating. It's like being trapped on an island full of Brittany S. Pierces. The thought makes his head start to hurt.

Kurt and Sebastian are not entirely out of the woods yet. Between them and Sebastian's Mustang, Kurt can see late night revelers playing football or Frisbee, or dancing (which looks more like disjointed flailing about. It actually looks kind of painful).

"Don't worry, babe," Sebastian says, interpreting the way Kurt's back stiffens at the sight of the walk ahead of them, "I'll protect you."

Kurt wants to pinch Sebastian, but he can't get his frozen fingers to obey his bidding.

They fully emerge from the water, and as soon as they set foot on the dry sand Kurt hears a racket from one of the tents – manic shuffling, the clattering of several pots dropping, and the sound of a woman crowing excitedly.

"Oh! Abel! Look!" a sing-song voice calls out, echoing down the quiet beach. "Mermen, Abel! I see mermen!"

Kurt sputters, then laughs, not sure if he heard her right but finding the notion hilarious anyway.

"Where?"

Kurt hears an older man's voice, thick with exhaustion, answer the tittering woman from somewhere in the tent city. Kurt blinks, peering to where the tents circle the closest fire, but his blurry vision won't clear long enough for him to zero in on where either voice is coming from.

"There! There!" The voice bounces through the air, getting louder as a woman comes into view from behind the firelight. She races down the beach, dragging a haggard man behind her, heading to where Kurt and Sebastian have stopped at the water's edge.

Kurt looks to Sebastian, waiting for his response to the foolish couple tripping over themselves in their falsely-placed excitement, but Sebastian says nothing, his face impassive as he strides purposefully out of the water.

Kurt is surprised that his own first instinct isn't to shield his naked body from view. At this point, all of his previous insecurities have become a moot point. Sebastian thinks he's sexy, and that knowledge puts Kurt more at ease. He didn't know what all these other knuckleheads thought, and honestly he didn't care. So he doesn't put his hands up to cover his nakedness and he doesn't hide behind Sebastian's body.

He doesn't want to do anything that would force him to leave the circle of Sebastian's arms.

"Children of the water," the man says with a low, gracious, and endearingly genuine bow, "please take this blanket to cover yourselves and keep your bodies warm until you can return to the sea."

The exuberant woman holds out a thick, navy blue wool blanket draped over her arm, pushing it toward them, her wide eyes begging them to take it.

Kurt is on edge, waiting for the big showdown, but Sebastian appears to be completely unperturbed by these two. He doesn't sneer, doesn't push past them, doesn't make a single snide remark. Kurt isn't sure what disturbs him more – being mistaken for mythical fish-folk or the complete 180 Sebastian is pulling.

It goes without saying that Kurt is confused to no end.

"Uh…thank you?" Kurt says, not sure how he should react. His eyes jump back and forth between the besotted couple and his deferential boyfriend, who simply accepts the gift of the blanket and wraps it quickly around their bodies.

"Thank you very much," Sebastian says with a genuine smile. "We'll make sure you get it back."

"Oh, no need, no need," the woman says, her face bright as she almost genuflects at their feet.

Sebastian nods once at the couple in a distinctly urbane manner and steers Kurt in the direction of the dismantled bandstand to fetch their belongings. While Sebastian gathers up their clothes and shoes, deciding on the best method to juggle the whole lot while holding up his end of the blanket (refusing all of Kurt's attempt at help, calling him an invalid) Kurt glances over his shoulder and watches the couple return to their tent. They keep their arms linked around one another, nearly skipping with their shared glee, talking loudly and feverishly (though the word 'mermen' is the only word Kurt can hear that makes any actual sense). Sebastian comes up with a way to handle his new burden and the blanket at the same time, and they head off down the beach with Kurt only responsible for holding his edge of the blanket and not falling on his face.

The blanket is rough and scratchy against Kurt's skin, but it's not entirely unpleasant. It smells of camp fires and spicy incense, maybe sandalwood with a touch of patchouli. Most importantly, it traps the warmth of their bodies, and keeps Sebastian close to Kurt's side to boot. Sebastian juggles the pile of clothes expertly and Kurt is sincerely impressed.

"So, that was…different," Kurt broaches, trying to find a reason behind Sebastian's uncharacteristic behavior. Kurt doesn't want Sebastian to change, especially not if he thinks that's what Kurt wants. Kurt fell for cocky, snarky, overly self-confident Sebastian Smythe and everything that comes with him, but this more mature, more compassionate side of Sebastian peaks Kurt's interest.

"What?" Sebastian asks, weeding his way around a couple of women thoroughly engrossed in making out in the sand.

"What happened back there…with that couple, I mean."

"Yeah, well, they're probably just high," Sebastian offers, tugging Kurt quickly out of the way of a group playing Frisbee. All of the participants look pretty much dead on their feet, but they don't seem to be in any hurry to stop the game - as if they're compelled to finish, however long it takes. Kurt feels the same way. He doesn't want this night (or more accurately 'morning') to end, but each step becomes heavier and more painful. If he could simply lie down in the sand again and fall back to sleep, he would consider doing it in a second.

"I get that," Kurt says, fighting the urge to yawn, "but what I don't get is…you."

Sebastian stops short and takes a moment to look at Kurt, facing hooded blue eyes that stare back at him with befuddled interest.

"What about me?"

Kurt shrugs, wary of the rising agitation in Sebastian's voice, not wanting to tarnish a glorious night with a petty argument.

"I don't know," Kurt says, pulling on the blanket to get Sebastian to start walking again, "I guess I just expected you to…"

"To what?" Sebastian interrupts.

Kurt wants to recant. Saying it out loud sounds rude and reprehensible. Kurt doesn't want to come across as if he's judging Sebastian, regardless of whether or not what he says might possibly be the truth.

"I expected you to, maybe, say something sarcastic, or..."

"Why should I?" Sebastian asks, not letting Kurt finish and sounding oddly surprised.

"Well, they were acting kind of ridiculous," Kurt explains, jumping to his own defense.

"Did that bother you?" Sebastian slows down to match Kurt's steadily declining pace.

"Not really, but, uh…" Kurt turns his head to look at Sebastian with raised eyebrows, "I thought for sure it would have offended you?"

"Why would it offend me?"

Kurt feels like he's pulling teeth – dragging Sebastian by the hand toward an obvious conclusion. He wonders if Sebastian's being serious. Did he actually not know what Kurt was getting at?

"Well…have you met yourself?" Kurt chuckles, trying to make light of an uncomfortable subject.

"Yes, Kurt," he says, "yes, I have."

Sebastian sounds defensive, and Kurt senses an old wall coming back up between them, but Sebastian still stays close to his side. Kurt thinks he might see the hint of a smirk on Sebastian's face, but he can't be sure. It could be a trick of the passing firelight, or the moon overhead casting shadows across Sebastian's face as they walk.

"You're just usually not the kind of person who puts up with that type of behavior."

Sebastian looks up at the sky above them.

"So, I'm not necessarily a people person. The existence of most people offends me, I won't lie." Sebastian trains his eyes along the beach, scowling at miscellaneous people as they pass by almost randomly to prove his point. "But those people back there? They're what you would call a 'chaotic good'."

"Chaotic good?" Kurt feels like he should be familiar with the concept but he's not certain why. He remembers it indistinctly, like the background noise of a conversation that he wasn't necessarily a party to. "What does that mean?"

"A person you can classify as a chaotic good is someone who acts the way his conscience tells him to, not the way others expect him to act," Sebastian explains. "They believe in what's good and right. They don't really abide by laws; they just behave the way their moral compass tells them to."

Kurt's eyes light up.

"Ooo! That sounds cool!" he exclaims. He hops up on his injured foot and hisses. Sebastian rolls his eyes and redistributes all his cargo, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist to help shoulder some of his weight. "Do me next!"

"I will if you want me to, babe, but we should really wait until we reach the car." Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows.

"Bas," Kurt whines, pushing against Sebastian's side with his hip.

"You're easy," Sebastian says suggestively. Kurt smacks him on the arm, but Sebastian only holds him tighter, maneuvering them toward the strip of parking spots and the dusty Mustang. It's tricky and inefficient, like they're trying to run a three-legged race. "I would say you're a 'lawful good'."

Kurt's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline.

"A lawful good?" he asks. 'Lawful good' strikes him as kind of dull. From the name alone, it sounds like it could be the exact opposite of what Kurt's been aiming for during this vacation.

"Yup. Your lines in the sand, so to speak, are strictly drawn. Black and white. You side with what you know to be good and you battle evil. You tell the truth, you keep your word, you fight against injustice…"

Sebastian punctuates his points with kisses to the crown of Kurt's head, but as he speaks, his voice wanders off and Kurt wonders – is that really the way Sebastian sees him? So definitively set in his ways? Always upright and honest?

"That sounds boring," Kurt says with a thread of disappointment in his voice.

Sebastian shrugs.

"Boring isn't necessarily bad," he says. "To be honest, you've been boring eighty percent of the time and you still landed me."

Sebastian smirks as Kurt kicks out with his good leg, but Sebastian picks him up and kisses him, effectively silencing any further attempt at violence. When Sebastian sets him back down, Kurt stares at him with a lopsided grin. Normally Kurt doesn't permit PDA (a rule that's becoming less hard-and-fast every second he spends with Sebastian), but he can definitely get into this thing Sebastian has for manhandling him anytime, anywhere.

"So, what does that make you?"

"Oh, babe," Sebastian says with a chuckle, "I'm a 'chaotic neutral'."

Kurt rolls his eyes at the satisfaction in Sebastian's voice at his declaration.

"So, what is a 'chaotic neutral'?"

"I follow my whims," he explains. "Look out for my own best interests. I have a problem with authority, resent restrictions…" He looks down at Kurt, leaning in to whisper into his ear, "…I'm unpredictable."

Kurt is inclined to agree with that statement and he's about to say so, but sudden comprehension derails his train of thought.

"Wait…" Kurt feels more sure than ever that he's heard this all before. As with most of his less defined knowledge regarding popular culture, it's something he overheard Finn and Puck discussing, something Kurt spurned as sad and pathetic. "Chaotic good, lawful good, chaotic neutral…" A grin of pure mischief forms on his face as he comes to the conclusion – "that's from Dungeons and Dragons, isn't it?"

Sebastian stands up straighter, his body going rigid, eyes focusing on the sand.

"N-not necessarily…"

Kurt rarely gets the chance to hear Sebastian stumble, and he basks in the effervescent glory of it.

"Oh, please don't tell me somewhere there's a story of little Sebby and his big brother Julian playing D&D in their parent's basement?"

Kurt doesn't stifle his grin but beams at Sebastian, punch drunk and giggling. Sebastian stares at him crossly, his mouth drawn in a thin, unamused line, though Kurt is sure that Sebastian is more amused than he lets on.

"Call me Sebby again," Sebastian says drily, "and one of your precious Vivienne Westwood scarves will meet with an unfortunate accident."

Kurt sobers up, but not completely. He's not thrilled with the prospect of one of his favorite rare scarves getting shredded, but having this to hold over Sebastian's head is too good to resist.

"You…wouldn't…dare," Kurt says sternly back, threat firmly implied.

Sebastian is more than willing to take that challenge.

"Try me."

Kurt glares at Sebastian, unwilling to back down, but his foot slips into a hole in the sand and he almost plummets to the ground. Sebastian's arm around his waist, which up until now he's taken for granted, rescues him from twisting his ankle and incapacitating himself any further.

Kurt recovers what's left of his dignity, feeling Sebastian laugh beside him.

"Serves you right," Sebastian grumbles but in a light-hearted tone.

Kurt feels his heart swell. He's enjoying this – this banter back and forth. So, maybe Sebastian is growing and maturing and changing a bit, but so is Kurt. Everybody does. But they still have this – the old 'them' that they can always fall back on.

"You know," Kurt says thoughtfully, eager to keep the verbal volley going, "you being into D&D actually explains so much."

Sebastian's next laugh is more of a derisive grunt than an actual laugh.

"Not that I'm interested in perpetuating this psychotic delusion any further, but what exactly would it explain?"

"Your sexual promiscuity," Kurt says.

Sebastian's head snaps so quickly to meet Kurt's gaze that Kurt is sure he hears a few of Sebastian's vertebrae crack.

Kurt nods with the weight of his sage wisdom.

"You're obviously overcompensating for a closet Dungeons and Dragon obsession, hence the need for numerous sexual partners."

Sebastian glowers, bristling all over as Kurt continues, but Kurt can't seem to stop. That look in Sebastian's eyes is dangerous and exciting, and Kurt wants more of it aimed his way.

"You're posturing," Kurt continues, "showing off your sexual prowess to deflect from the fact that you're actually…" Kurt pauses for effect, relishing the next few words, "a gigantic nerd."

Sebastian glares at Kurt's teasing face, eyes practically on fire, and frowns.

"That's it," he says. "You've lost your blanket privileges."

"No!" Kurt squeals, holding tight to the blanket as Sebastian tugs it hard, shoving him over with his hip, trying to push him out. "No! Okay! You're not a nerd! I give! I give!" Kurt slips again, heading for the sand, and he's thinks that this time Sebastian is going to let him face-plant completely as payback for his teasing, but Sebastian catches him again with the hand around his waist.

"God, you're a fucking klutz, aren't you?" Sebastian accuses, bringing Kurt up into his arms and hugging him this time, burying his nose into Kurt's hair as he gives him a chance to rest his injured leg. Kurt balances awkwardly on one foot, holding his ankle up while he tries not to stumble in the sand.

"Hold this," Sebastian says, handing Kurt his edge of the blanket. Kurt takes it and holds onto it while Sebastian slides his hand beneath Kurt's knee and lifts it up, holding his hurt foot aloft and helping him maintain his balance.

Kurt bites his lip, counting about a hundred different times Sebastian has managed to make him mentally swoon this morning alone.

"Thanks," Kurt mutters, noticing how with their bodies close together and his leg angled up this way he can feel everything about Sebastian's body, even more so when he was bent over backwards in his arms in the water.

It's risqué and raunchy, but it makes Kurt want to drop down into the sand and try his hand at seducing Sebastian all over again, even though he's confident the results would be the same.

"Seriously, though," Kurt says, deflecting some of his mounting desire by drumming up more conversation, "how do you know that?"

Sebastian's eyes are focused down at Kurt's chest, not meeting his eyes, and Kurt realizes that past the racing of his own heart, which had started up again at the touch of Sebastian's skin sandwiched against his own, he can feel Sebastian's rapidly thumping heart beat as well.

"I had a contemporary European literature professor who used alignments as a framework for examining character loyalties in turn of the century French and German post World War II literature," Sebastian says, his voice unsteady and less mocking in light of their current position. Kurt can only guess what Sebastian is thinking, imagining the two of them lying naked in the sand worshipping each other as well.

Kurt's face is flushed when Sebastian looks at him. Kurt raises an eyebrow, his expression blank and somewhat skeptical.

"But yes, it's from Dungeons and Dragons," Sebastian admits finally.

"A-ha!" Kurt cheers. "I knew it!"

"You know nothing." Sebastian lowers Kurt's leg back to the ground and directs him toward the car.

"If it makes you feel any better, I imagine you as a twelfth level paladin," Kurt says grinning, "or the dungeon master."

"No, it doesn't," Sebastian groans, knowing he's still being ruthlessly taunted, "and by the way, wouldn't knowing all this make _you_ a gigantic nerd?"

"I see it more as the unavoidable symptom of a communicable disease."

"What disease?" Sebastian scoffs.

"Puck and Finn."

Sebastian's eyes shift to catch a glimpse of Kurt's serious face.

"Okay," Sebastian says, sympathizing as a brother to a brother, "you're excused."

"Thank you," Kurt says dramatically, as if Sebastian's approval justified Kurt's whole existence.

Sebastian laughs.

"You do realize you called your stepbrother a disease, right?"

"He'll live." Kurt grimaces as they head up the slight embankment to the car.

The thirty or so steps up the embankment turn out to be the slowest steps of Kurt's life. He hadn't noticed that they had walked quite so far, but now that he can barely put any weight on his leg he curses all the adrenaline and enthusiasm that had propelled him down the beach in the first place.

"So, are we going to drive back inland now?" Kurt asks around a yawn.

"Nope," Sebastian says, leaning Kurt up against the Mustang for support. He slips out from beneath the blanket, walking completely naked to the rear of the car. Not that Kurt minds at all. He stares blatantly at Sebastian's toned ass until he rounds the rear of the vehicle, out of sight. Sebastian pops the trunk and rummages around for a bit, coming back with a duffel bag, a box of cornstarch, and several bottles of water. "I told you, there's no way we're getting off this beach tonight."

"Why not?"

Sebastian doesn't answer; he simply points in the direction of the way they came in. Kurt's eyes follow the path of Sebastian's finger and he sees groups of tents, campfires, the bodies of people passed out in the sand - all blocking their exit.

"What are we going to do then?" Kurt asks, not looking forward to sleeping with sand stuck to his body. Sebastian picks up one of the bottles of water and the box of cornstarch, shaking them in front of Kurt's face, waiting expectantly for Kurt to guess.

"We're going to make papier mache?" Kurt tilts his head and squints, not in the mood for guessing games.

Sebastian shakes his head.

"We're going to take a camping shower."

Kurt's face drops, his expression going completely inscrutable while Sebastian starts opening the caps on the water bottles and lining them up on the roof of the car. Once that's done, he opens the box of cornstarch, squeezing the sides of the box to soften up the powder inside. His turns around and finds Kurt standing, unmoved with the blanket still wrapped around him.

"Come on, babe." Sebastian reaches out a hand and tugs at the rough cloth. "Open up."

Kurt doesn't know why he stalls. Didn't he already strip for Sebastian? Hasn't he seen him naked? Why is this different?

With shaking hands, Kurt opens the blanket and holds it wide, blocking the view of anyone who might walk behind him. Sebastian starts to dust Kurt's skin with the cornstarch, coating his skin until it's completely white. The powder puffs up toward Kurt's nose, the tiny particulates irritating his sinuses. He moves to pinch his nose, but he stops halfway, knowing that doing so will involve either closing the blanket around him and hindering Sebastian's progress or dropping the blanket completely.

"You know, this would be easier if you dropped the blanket," Sebastian says, struggling to dust Kurt's back with the wool cloth clutched in his fists. Sebastian's gaze flicks up, catching Kurt sweeping his eyes over the parking lot. "Carlos isn't here if that's what you're worried about."

"Where did he go?" Kurt coughs as he inhales a cloud of powder, but it's a perfect cover for the question that he almost asked but really didn't want to know the answer to – _How do you know?_

Sebastian shrugs.

"Probably to one of those tents," Sebastian speculates, bending over to powder Kurt's legs, carefully avoiding the sopping wet bandage encircling Kurt's ankle. After Kurt is covered to Sebastian's satisfaction, he grabs a clean dry towel from the duffel and starts knocking the cornstarch off Kurt's body - the thin, smooth powder sliding off Kurt's skin and taking the coarser sand along with it.

Kurt looks over the tents, most of them brightly lit from the inside, shadows and silhouettes dancing along the sides of some, showing clearly what the inhabitants are doing. Kurt briefly wonders which one Carlos might have commandeered for himself when a splash of water hits his shoulder.

"Jeesh!" Kurt hops back and Sebastian laughs.

"Settle down, Hummel. You don't want to waste it."

Mesmerized, Kurt stands, unmoving and lets Sebastian wash him, pouring bottled water over his skin and rinsing what's left of the sand away. He closes his eyes just a moment when the water trickles in thin rivers around his hips and over the swell of his ass. It feels so intimate, even standing here on a public beach, surrounded by cars and the occasional passerby. They could be standing in the middle of a crowded mall on Black Friday for all Kurt cares. Sebastian rinses the sand from between his fingers, placing a quick kiss to his inside wrist before traveling down his legs. He unwraps Kurt's bandage and flushes out the sting.

"Wh-where did you learn this?" Kurt asks, not so much curious but needing something to focus on while Sebastian cleans the sand off his ankle – a place Kurt didn't know was an erogenous zone until Sebastian brushed his fingertips lightly against it.

"My father was an Eagle Scout," Sebastian says, switching to Kurt's other ankle, biting back a smile when a quiet moan slips past Kurt's lips, "my mom was a Cadet. They know all about this camping in the woods, living off of bark, and surviving the zombie apocalypse shit."

"Oh yeah?" Kurt asks, the words somewhere between a breathy gasp and a whimper when Sebastian works his way back up Kurt's leg toward his inner thigh. He tries to picture Gregory and Charlotte as weekend warriors, hiking in the wilderness, purifying water with a coffee can and some bleach, if for no other reason than to kill the hard-on that's threatening to make an appearance.

Disturbingly enough, it doesn't help in that capacity.

"Yeah," Sebastian continues. "They took us to one of those endurance retreats in the California desert when I was in the fifth grade. They thought it would be a bonding experience or something."

Kurt shifts from one foot to the other, spreading his legs and swallowing hard, looking straight ahead, categorizing the cars in the lot by style and color, finding anything to draw his attention away from the water drizzling lightly down his stomach in a way that seems to direct the stream straight down his already half-hard cock.

Kurt has a suspicion that Sebastian chose that path on purpose.

"What happened?" Kurt says, steadying his voice, refusing to be flustered.

"Me, Liv, and Julian spent the whole trip taking bets on who would die or get eaten first, which turned into a huge argument over what part of the body is suitable for human consumption, and three hours later my parents called it quits and took us to Disneyland." Sebastian empties the rest of the bottle down Kurt's chest, staring deep into his eyes as he does it, seeing something in Kurt's gaze that he apparently likes because his smirk turns into a sultry grin and he licks his lips. He kisses Kurt quickly, slipping his tongue into Kurt's mouth with a low growl and enough heat to leave Kurt wanting so much more. Then he breaks away and hands Kurt a fresh towel.

"You dry off and get dressed," Sebastian commands, gesturing to the open duffel bag lying on the ground. "It's my turn next."

Kurt starts to dry off, watching Sebastian shower (if it can honestly be termed that). He starts the process over on himself, dusting his skin with the cornstarch and then swatting it off with the towel, brushing away the sand in a much rougher manner than he used on Kurt. Sebastian opens a bottle of water and pours it over himself, bending his neck back and starting beneath his chin. The water slides over his skin in a way that Kurt can almost feel, his own skin tingling with the memory of it. Sebastian sets aside the empty bottle and reaches for another one, but Kurt reaches a hand out for it, too. Their hands meet somewhere in the middle.

"Did you want me to…"

Sebastian looks at Kurt's face, into his beckoning blue eyes, and his breath hitches in his throat.

"That's okay," he says with a smirk. "I'll just take a second. Finish getting dressed. I don't need you catching a cold."

"Right," Kurt says with a smirk to match Sebastian's, "because you don't want to have to take care of me?"

Sebastian's grin burns brighter and he winks.

"That's right."

Dressing on the beach is a tricky business. Struck with a sudden case of modesty as more and more beach goers start heading towards their cars, Kurt attempts to keep the towel wrapped around his waist and manages, at least, to get his shirt on that way. But keeping the towel from slipping while balancing on one leg and negotiating pants is a feat bordering on the extraterrestrial, so eventually he has to abandon propriety, and bares ass so he can bend over and put on the sweat pants Sebastian lent him. Kurt dresses carefully, trying not to get sand in the leg of the pants. Luckily, the sweats have loose elastic around the ankle and Kurt opens it wide to slip each foot through. He stops every once in a while to continue watching Sebastian rinse the sand off his skin. He starts to feel guilty, thinking that maybe he shouldn't, that he's peeking in on a private moment, but then Sebastian catches his eye and smiles.

"Do you see something you like, Hummel?" he asks cheekily.

"Geez," Kurt says with a roll of his eyes, "isn't that the most overused statement of our generation?"

"I'm not sure," Sebastian says. "I think it might be tied with 'baby bump' and 'I don't think so'. Oh, and let's not forget the ever popular 'I've got your back'."

Kurt nods in agreement. He turns to the car and picks up a bottle, holding it out to Sebastian. Sebastian takes it, but doesn't continue bathing. He waits for an answer to his question, overused or not.

"So, do you?" he repeats.

Kurt feels color rising to his cheeks, burning so brightly that he knows even the night and the shadows can't hide it, which is good in the long run. It gives him the freedom to be honest.

"Everything," Kurt says with awe. "I like everything about you. You…you're gorgeous."

This time it's Sebastian who turns his head to hide his blush.

"What?" Kurt asks. "You can't tell me you haven't heard that from someone before. I won't believe it."

Sebastian pours what's left of the water down his legs and holds the empty plastic bottle in both hands, crushing it flat.

"No," he says. "I haven't. Not like that."

It never dawned on Kurt, not once since he's known him, that of all those boys and men that Sebastian must have been with that not one of them would have paid him a compliment – an honest compliment, that is. Kurt was sure that's where the bulk of his overly vaulted sense of self-esteem had come from. Sebastian must have heard he was handsome, but probably in that way that people tell you what you want to hear in order to get something out of you.

Kurt wants Sebastian to look at him, to give Kurt permission to comfort him, but Sebastian doesn't look at him right away. He dresses on autopilot, his eyes distant as he puts on his clothes. He's lost in his thoughts and Kurt lets him stay there, not put out at being ignored, giving Sebastian whatever time he needs. Sebastian clears away the empty water bottles and the cornstarch, putting them beside the pile of their sandy clothes, the duffel bag, and the wool blanket in the trunk before he speaks to Kurt again.

"Uh…I brought a tent if you want to set it up on the beach," Sebastian offers.

"That sounds…amazing," Kurt admits, "but I'm exhausted. I think if I take another step I'm going to die."

Sebastian chuckles, shaking his head, and all of a sudden Kurt's boyfriend is back. Sebastian opens the passenger door to the Mustang. He leans down and pulls up a lever, collapsing the seat forward.

"Climb on in, babe," Sebastian instructs, gesturing to the back seat.

"But…but it's tiny," Kurt complains around another, more persistent, yawn.

"Kurt," Sebastian says sternly, "nothing about this car is tiny."

"Does that include the car's owner?" Kurt teases, climbing into the back seat with Sebastian close behind.

"Don't you know it," he answers back, swatting Kurt on the ass. (Kurt is beginning to get the impression that Sebastian is an ass man.) Sebastian shuts the door behind them and locks it. He grabs a pillow and a blanket that he had stashed in the front seat at some point when Kurt wasn't paying any attention.

"This is going to be a tight squeeze," Kurt says, climbing onto the seat with Sebastian, cautiously kneeling down so that he doesn't unwittingly knee Sebastian in the groin.

"Those are the best kind," Sebastian mumbles, adjusting beneath Kurt's body, maneuvering so that they better fit together.

It's not perfect, and by no means the most comfortable sleeping arrangement. They shimmy up to adjust and readjust several times – Kurt lifting up so Sebastian can scoot further down the seat, then doing it one more time so Sebastian can scoot back up again, half twisting separately, then together, Kurt draping an arm over Sebastian, and then Sebastian wrapping an arm around Kurt and holding him tight - until the pillow rests behind Sebastian's neck just right and Kurt curls against his boyfriend's body in a way that means none of his limbs will fall go numb, even though Sebastian is practically holding him suspended in mid-air. Kurt giggles once, imagining what the rocking Mustang must look like to the casual outside observer.

They settle down finally, and what at first blush seemed like an ill-conceived idea (with Kurt constantly questioning if he should swallow his pride and ask Sebastian to build the tent after all) turns into something enchanting. The back seat of the Mustang becomes their own quiet safe haven; secluded from the ocean air and the prying eyes of stragglers roaming the beach. They stop moving at the same time, catch each other's gaze in the dark, and all at once without any words spoken Sebastian is kissing Kurt, or Kurt is kissing Sebastian. It happens so suddenly that Kurt can't tell who starts it, but he doesn't want it to end.

Kurt chuckles quietly in the space between kisses.

"How did this happen?" he asks, closing the gap for another inevitable kiss.

"How did what happen?" Sebastian hums against Kurt's lips.

"This," Kurt says, sweeping his eyes around the car as a gesture meant to imply everything that's transpired between them so far, "us. How did that happen?"

Sebastian shrugs, kissing a patch of skin below Kurt's ear, running a hand up his neck, fingertips grazing lightly.

"I'm not sure," Sebastian admits, "but I learned a long time ago not to question a good thing when it comes along."

"Am I a good thing?" Kurt asks, thinking about all those boys, all those men who have probably used Sebastian over the years. That isn't to say Sebastian didn't use a few of them, too, but Kurt doesn't care about those nameless, faceless strangers. He cares about Sebastian – a beautiful boy who only wants a chance to love someone, and feel loved in return.

Kurt doesn't overthink kissing Sebastian. He lets whatever is going to happen come in its own time. He gives his body permission to do and be. His hands roam over Sebastian's body, toying with the hem of his soft, white t-shirt, fingertips brushing at the slightly salt-dry but smooth skin underneath.

"Kurt," Sebastian mutters when Kurt snakes his hands beneath the elastic waistband of Sebastian's sweatpants and finds him hard and aching beneath his fingers. Kurt takes hold, takes control, and strokes him slowly.

"Kurt…" It's a question, a plea, and it's deliciously broken. Sebastian's hands are on him, reaching for him, but Kurt moves out of his grasp. Kurt wants to experience this in its entirety, without any distractions. "Kurt…"

Kurt deliberately experiments with pressure, speed, a slight twist of his fist, finding all those subtle variations that make Sebastian shudder and gasp beneath him. Kurt feels his own desire grow at every breathless mention of his name, but he's determined to finish what he started.

"Kurt…" Sebastian finally grabs hold of Kurt's hand and stills his movements.

"Sebastian…" Kurt objects.

"No, Kurt…" Sebastian interrupts. "No, it's not that. I need _you_. Please."

Sebastian helps Kurt climb over him, repositioning their bodies in the confines of the car so that Kurt can lay on him. Sebastian's legs drop open at the knees so that Kurt can rest between them and Kurt picks up where he stopped earlier. The temperature inside the Mustang rises sharply as Kurt moves, his forehead damp with perspiration at the strain of staying balanced in such a cramped space, but it's worth it when he feels that first surge of pleasure course through his body, and Sebastian arches his back and moans.

"God, yes!" Sebastian groans, loud enough to be heard outside the car, evidenced by the muted sound of cheering they can hear from the owners of the Lexus parked next to them. "Yes, Kurt! Right…right there. D-don't stop…"

Sebastian's tortured muttering is just as sexy, maybe even more so, than his drawn out, sinful moans every time Kurt rolls his hips down, sliding their cocks together. Kurt had been so nervous about initiating this, so nervous that he would pale in comparison, but he reminds himself that Sebastian's former exploits mean nothing.

They _are_ nothing.

It's in the past, the same way Blaine is swiftly becoming a part of Kurt's past.

Sebastian _wants_ Kurt. With every scrape of his nails down Kurt's back, with every rise of his hips to meet Kurt's thrusts, with every pant and whimper and shudder – Sebastian wants Kurt.

Sebastian watches Kurt snap his hips above him because he needs to see him there.

There is no one else.

Sebastian lets Kurt take him, and when he cums again, after hours spent kissing and teasing and edging so close just to be pulled apart again, it's with Kurt's name on his lips and their fingers laced together.

Sebastian cums because of Kurt, and for Sebastian, it's almost like a dream.

"Finally," Sebastian groans. "I didn't know how many more near misses I was going to be able to take."

"Yeah," Kurt agrees, still hovering in the delirium of his own orgasm. "I guess this car is bigger on the inside than it seems."

Kurt stares down into Sebastian's face, and in the light coming in through the windows Kurt can see the track of a single tear staining Sebastian's cheek. Kurt longs to lean over and kiss it away, but he decides not to. Sebastian, in many ways, is still so guarded about certain feelings; he still has so many secrets. He might not be ready to share this one.

Kurt has one or two of his own that he's not ready to reveal, even though the loose lips that come with post-coital bliss are dying to spill everything.

"How do you feel?" Kurt asks, half-hoping that Sebastian might come clean on his own.

"I feel like I need to go get my suspension checked because I think we rocked my Mustang pretty hard," Sebastian jokes. He raises a hand and wipes the tear away but says nothing about, and Kurt sighs knowing that is another puzzle piece he's going to have to come to terms with letting go.

"Please," Kurt scoffs. "You have an American muscle car with an independent rear suspension. I'm sure she can handle us rocking her a little bit."

Sebastian stares for a moment, and then pulls Kurt down on top of his.

"Yes," he moans, "talk automotive to me! It gets me so hot!"

"Yeah, I bet," Kurt laughs. "Tell me you brought one of those towels in here so I don't have to go to sleep with a mess down my pants this time."

"Are you always this high-maintenance?" Sebastian reaches into the front seat, grabs a towel, and hands it to Kurt.

"I didn't know that not wanting to sleep in a pool of bodily fluids constituted being high-maintenance," Kurt argues, slipping the end of the towel into the front of his sweatpants to clean himself off. Sebastian grabs the opposite end and does the same. Kurt raises an eyebrow.

"So, does that mean you're high-maintenance, too?" Kurt jeers, dropping his end of the towel when he finishes.

"Nope," Sebastian says, wrapping the towel in a ball and shoving it to the floor when he's done, "I 'm piggybacking off a good idea."

Kurt curls up in roughly the same position as before, with his head on Sebastian's chest, and melts onto his boyfriend's body much easier now that they're both relaxed. Kurt can hear Sebastian's breathing along with his heart beating against his ear. It's calm and soothing, and his body responds to it - his own breathing slowing to match, his own heart quieting to equal its pace.

Sebastian pulls the forgotten blanket around them, tucking it around Kurt to keep him warm. Before the thought of saying 'good-night' even enters his mind, he hears Kurt's breathing even out, and he knows that Kurt's already asleep.

Sebastian stares up at the ceiling of his Mustang, fighting the pull of sleep long enough to let one more tear slip, holding on to this bittersweet feeling for as long as he can.


End file.
